


Little Red Riding Hood

by ChelleyPam



Category: Iron Druid Chronicles - Kevin Hearne, Revolution (TV)
Genre: Druid!Charlie, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleyPam/pseuds/ChelleyPam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie goes to meet Miles as her father suggested, but finds him in pain and too damaged to feel right about bringing him with her to Philadelphia.  She'll get her brother back in her own fashion, but a gift she leaves for her uncle has him realizing she could be the most dangerous weapon Monroe could get his hands on if he doesn't stop her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

** Chicago, IL – The Grand **

“Excuse me, maybe you can help me?”

The bartender turned around to see a young girl with tawny blond hair and sea-blue eyes looking back at him. Her pretty face and the scarlet cloak she wore about her shoulders made her stand out in this dreary place where people came to try and drink away their miserable lives. Well, that and the massive dog that had stood up on its hind legs, paws placed just on the edge of the bar for leverage, making it taller than she was.

“I'll try, but you may be a little young to be in a place like this.”

She smiled. “Depends on whose idea of propriety you're using. I'm looking for someone. His name is Miles Matheson.”

Shit. “Sorry, never heard of him.”

“I see.” Two words. His gut told him that she saw right through that lie. “In that case, should he come in, could you give him a message?”

“I can try.”

“Tell him his brother, Ben, is dead. He was murdered by Militia.”

Ben was dead. Just hearing those words twisted a knife into his gut. “And who would you be?”

“Charlotte, or Charlie. I'm his niece.”

That's where he had seen those eyes before. Staring up at him from a toddler's face right before she tucked her head into the crook of his neck and hugged him with all the strength her little body could muster, which had been considerable. “Okay, come with me.” He pointed towards the back and both girl and dog followed him without question. 

He lived in a part of the hotel where he had surrounded himself with little luxuries from the past. Gold records from his favorite bands, shelves of books that were packed full, his massive bed was at the top of a grand marble staircase He'd always liked beautiful things. He'd always liked comfort. He knew what it was; a vain attempt to stop him from hurting inside. 

“Nice dog.” Damn thing came up to his waist, and he wasn't a short man. “Any specific breed?”

“He's an Irish Wolf Hound. His name is Cuchulain.” As if on cue, the dog sat down and extended a paw. Miles shook it. A well trained dog. 

“How do you keep him fed?”

“He does well for himself on rabbits and small game. When we hunt together and bring down something larger, I always give him his share.”

Miles gave a grunt and poured himself a drink before sitting down. “So, what happened to Ben?”

Charlotte claimed a seat on one of the other chairs, not bothering to be invited. The dog lay down at her side. “I wasn't there at the time it went down, I can only tell you what Maggie and Aaron said.”

“Who?”

“Maggie was Dad's girlfriend. Aaron is a friend of the family. According to them a group of Militia came to our village looking for two men; my father and you. I wasn't hunting so my crossbow was at home. Danny... he got hold of it and tried to stop them. Somehow in the fracas, Dad ended up shot and the Militia took Danny instead. I heard the gunshot, but by the time I got back to the village... it was too late to do anything. Dad just told me to come to Chicago and find you.”

Of course he did. He'd taken a risk, finding Ben after he'd left Monroe, but he needed to tell him about Rachel's death and he needed to know where he could find him if Ben and the kids needed a safe haven to which to run. 

“Find me for what?” Her eyes were on him and there was a... strangeness about them. It made him uneasy.

“I think he hoped you'd help me get Danny back, but now...” she looked at him further then shook her head. “Now I see that would be cruel to ask of you.”

Miles blinked. “What?”

“Danny's asthma was bad. I used to wake up about ten times a night just to make sure he was still breathing, so I overheard Mom and Dad when they'd talk. Heard a lot more than they'd have liked me to.”

She got up and walked over to him. He watched her as she crouched down and placed a slender fingered, life-calloused hand on a spot just below his sternum. “I know you used to be with Monroe, that you were friends since you were boys. I know you used to run the Militia. Right here, you're soul is raw, still wounded. It hurt you to leave him, it's still hurting you. And this place inside you... if he opened his arms and welcomed you back, you just might do it.”

Her voice was gentle. Miles couldn't look away from her. Her eyes were on the spot where her hand was, but everything she was saying was true. How was someone so young filled with such wisdom? “You think that?”

“You know it. Asking you to come with me, to ask you to put yourself through that, I can't do that to you.” She got up to her feet, her expression sad. “I shouldn't have come here. I should have gone directly after the men who took Danny.”

“You're going to take Danny back from the Militia. You and your giant dog.”

“That's all I really need. I came here because Dad said to and because you know Monroe. I see now that I should have left you alone. I'm sorry.” She got up, the dog rising with her as she went for her pack.

“Wait.” She stopped, looking over her shoulder at him. “It's late. At least bunk here for tonight. Get some rest and start out fresh in the morning. Take the bed up top.” He jerked his thumb up towards the balcony.

“You don't have to do that.”

“I want to. You're family, and you've been through a rough time of it. Get some rest, things will be clearer in the morning.” Maybe he could talk her out of this nonsense in the morning. One girl and her oversized hound against a Militia unit? She might as well just surrender herself to them and be done with it, though why the Militia would bother taking Danny when they'd killed Ben wasn't clear to him.

She was still watching him with those piercing eyes before she gave him a smile. “Thank you for your hospitality, Uncle Miles.”

“Don't mention it.” He took a pull from his drink. “You hungry? I still need to eat dinner anyway.”

“It certainly wouldn't be turned down. Cuchulain will eat anything involving meat. I'm a bit more flexible.”

** Following Morning **

Miles had forgotten how uncomfortable the couch was, but he had promised Charlie his bed. The dog had curled up in front of the hearth. He really was very well behaved. 

A peculiar scent like old socks permeated the room. He cracked open an eye to find Charlotte at the hearth with the dog. She was working over something that included hot water. “Laundry?”

“Tea.”

“Tea?” He sat up onto his elbows. “No offense, but it smells kinda bad.”

“The flavor isn't much to write home about either, but it works.” There were a few of his liquor bottles already set to the side, supposedly containing the 'tea'.

“Works how?”

“It's a medicinal brew. Helps the body restore and heal. Should do wonders for your liver. You've almost killed it, though I suspect that was your general plan.” As he watched she poured some of the latest batch into a shallow bowl and set it aside to cool, and poured two cups as well. The rest went into another bottle. 

“You expect me to drink that?”

“I do. And as a favor to me, I'd ask that you drink one cup each day until it's gone.” She gave him a faint smile. “At least try it for one week and then see how you feel about finishing the rest.” She walked over to one of the covered silver serving trays he had salvaged from the hotel's inventory. She'd made him breakfast.

“Damn, keep this up and I'll have to keep you around. We'll get you another bed, though.”

She smiled. “Can't stick around too long. Danny's still out there.”

“So you're still determined to get him back.” It wasn't a question.

“I have to. I should have been there. I... miscalculated.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There were two groups of Militia coming towards the village that day; one only about a dozen strong, the other twice that number. I thought the larger group was the bigger threat. While I was dealing with them, the smaller one walked right into town and took Danny.”

This wasn't making sense to them. “How did you 'deal' with the larger group?”

The tea was apparently cool enough. She set the bowl down and the dog immediately started lapping it up. She handed him one cup and kept the other for herself. “I killed them. I've been doing in for about two years, anytime one of the groups specifically looking for father got too close.”

Miles stared at her, looking for a sign of a lie, but her eyes were clear and open. “You've been killing Militia for two years to protect your family. Why?”

“Because Dad was too much of a pacifist, Mom's gone and Danny can't breathe well enough to keep up a fight more than a few minutes. Someone in the family had to step up, and I was the last one on the roster.” She drank her tea, grimacing a bit at the taste. “I hate this stuff, but it works too well not to drink it.” She looked back at him. “I can handle the situation with Danny. I have the practice and skills to pull it off. The city might be a bit tricky, I'm better on open ground, but chances are that courier has already been dispatched with the update. If I go after the unit that has him directly, it will raise too many questions.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“Head straight to Philadelphia. Beat them there and scout the area. See where they put Danny and get him back.”

“No way I can talk you out of this?”

She shook her head. “No. Drink your tea.” He did, and it was terrible. “I assure you, give it a week and you won't care how bad it tastes.” She put down her empty cup and joined him for breakfast. “You should know I snuck out. Maggie and Aaron both wanted to come with me, but Maggie also insisted I sleep first. I crept away while everyone was out. It's likely they'll show up here, looking for me. Can't miss them. Aaron is overweight with a beard and glasses, Maggie has a British accent. She's the town doctor and she's pretty good. Aaron used to be some computer wiz pre-Blackout. I managed to bypass the spy the Militia had standing by to follow anyone coming to look for you. I doubt they will.”

“Meaning they'll bring him straight to my door. Awesome.” He chocked down the tea as she had requested. It tasted like sweaty socks, just as is smelled. “What's the spy look like?”

“Young, male. Tall, shortly cropped back hair, weapon of choice is a bow and he wears his shirts too tight.”

Miles gave her a sideways look. “Handsome?”

She shrugged. “Girls have hormones, too. Kind of hard not to notice the looks.” She gave him a brief smile. “I'd recommend you consider finding a new hideout. And I'd recommend you lay off the drinking. I've only got a precious few blood relations left, Uncle Miles. Please take better care of yourself.”

She finished her breakfast, she'd managed to scare up a couple of extra pork chops for the dog, and wiped her mouth clean. “We should be going. There's a lot of ground to cover between here and Philadelphia and I'll need to get my hands on some kind of currency on my way there.”

He had gotten up out of habit. Suddenly he didn't want her to go, and he wanted the bubbly four year old back he used to pick up and spine around to make her laugh. But she wasn't that kid any more. For all the clarity in her eyes, there was also too much knowledge there. He ran his eyes over her as though to memorize who she was so he didn't not know her if they met again. “Impressive ink. How'd you talk Ben into letting you get all that?” 

She was picking up her cloak and looked down at her mostly bare right arm with the complicated and intricate knot work. “I didn't ask him. I just did it. I can be a little stubborn at times.”

Miles chuckled at that. “Well, that you get from your mother.”

“So I've been told.”

“I guess that means I really can't talk you out of this.”

“You would be correct in that assumption.” She was already clean and dressed, wearing some outfit that was made up of loose fitting pants and a tunic that was decorated in knot work embroidery much like the tattoos he had seen. Her shoes were simple and would be easily removed and he watched as she fastened a woven leather belt with two scabbards, each one holding a sword, one long and one short. He looked over at her pack and saw that there was what looked like a quarter staff attached to one side.

“May I see that?”

“Sure.” She unfastened the quarterstaff and tossed it to him. “Nice work, huh?”

“It certainly is.” The wood was smooth and intricately carved. He frowned at the inlay work. “Is this silver?”

“On one side. The other side is inlaid with iron. They sort of weave together in the middle.”

“Where did you find something like this?”

“It was a gift. Same as the swords. I had to make the bow myself.” She tossed that to him as well for his inspection.

“Nice work here, too.” He gave her back the staff and tested the bow. Good tensile strength, appeared to be crafted from hand and with all natural materials. Nothing left over from pre-Blackout. “You make your own arrows as well?”

“I do.” She grinned at him after securing her staff to the pack again. “Let me guess, you were still expecting some little girl in pigtails who still thought her Uncle Miles was the coolest person on Earth?”

“Haven't seen you in years, Kid. That image kind of got stuck in my head.” He gave her back the bow. She had worked out a good system for packing her things and leaving her weapons within easy reach. He had to approve. “Look, if you're going to go to Philly, you'll have to tone it down a bit. The Militia keeps the place pretty locked down.”

“Let me worry about that. I've got more than a few tricks in my bag.” She straightened up and smiled at him. “And in truth, there is still a part of me that does think you're the coolest person on Earth. That's why you can't come with me on this. Stay away from Philadelphia, for your own good.”

“I could tell you the same thing.”

“Yeah, but I'm not the one bleeding inside.” She came to him and hugged him fiercely. “I love you. Be safe.”

He returned the hug as well, not sure he could make himself go. He didn't know her, but he wanted her to be safe as well. “If you track me down again, you've got a place to stay.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.” She strained up onto her tip toes and kissed his cheek. “Remember, theirs names are Maggie and Aaron. If there's a guy who's carrying a bow, he's Militia. Ditch him and the three of you hide. Don't let them follow me, either.”

“Got it.” He watched her shoulder her pack. “You be careful out there.”

Charlotte grinned, and for a second he could see that little four-year-old still inside her. “I'm always careful, except for the times I'm causing trouble.” The red cloak seemed inadequate protection from the chill air outside, or maybe he was just worrying for nothing. Cuchulain got up from his spot on the floor, pausing to give his hand a friendly lick, and walked to her side without so much as a spoken command. 

He followed her out of his living quarters and into the bar. Several regulars watched her leave with knowing looks. A twist in his gut almost had him scolding them about thinking he slept with his niece, but he pulled it back. Let them think she was a one night tumble. It would be better camouflage for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie is in Philadelphia and putting her master plan too work.

** Philadelphia – 10 days later ** 

[Do you think Atticus will be mad if he finds out you gave your uncle all that Immortali-Tea?]

_Probably, but he needed more time._

[More time to do what?]

_To find a way to atone for his past. He did a lot of bad things as General Matheson. He hates himself for it, but doesn't know what to do to make up for all the pain he caused._

Getting into Philly hadn't been difficult. Who is going to wonder about a young woman coming to the city in hopes of finding work and her giant dog? Cuchulain attracted more concern than she did. Of course, that could have been because she had cast a binding to make her weapons appear invisible to normal sight. As long as she didn't use them, she was okay. 

On the way here she had stopped to raid one of the many caches Atticus had hidden around the world, sending a message through the elementals to him to let him know she had to raid it. Atticus was a practical man, and his secret stashes were usually coins stamped from precious metals and gems. Gold and silver spent just about anywhere, and a lot of these were old enough to be pre-USA, let alone pre-Blackout. The proprietor of the hotel where they were staying was happy to take one ounce of gold and one ounce of silver to give them a room for the week, dog included, with a hot bath each night and meals for each of them. He would have freaked if he'd have seen the platinum pieces or the twenty-carat pink diamond she had cloaked and hidden in her pack. Everything was bound to her so that it could not be removed until she got to the room and could bind it to the underside of the bed frame with an added twist that none of her personal items could be taken from the room.

So far she had been able to scope out the different businesses and bars in the city. She had learned where Monroe and his officers liked to unwind when they had time. She had paid for a couple of dresses to be made that were easy to move in as well as a curious blend of modesty and seductress. 

[What does that one do?] Cuchulain was watching as she murmured the bindings over the herbs she had secured from the apothecary while they steeped.

_Pheromone booster._

[What's it do?]

_Turn every guy's head my way. Probably a few of the girl's too._

[I don't see why you need to use that. I see lots of guys look your way.]

 _Thanks for the compliment, but I'm after specific quarry tonight._ The booster was a gamble. Too much testosterone in the room and she could set off a riot. There was also the unavoidable side effect this particular brew had in boosting fertility. It was intentionally meant to help people having difficulties with getting pregnant. _You're sure you saw him go in with the others._

[Oh, it was him all right. You'd better hurry up or he might get hammered enough to leave.]

She downed the tea. It tasted vastly better than the Immortali-Tea, but was far more dangerous. _Well, then, time for me to go make a scene._

[Oh, I gotta see this. Can I come inside?]

 _Not this time, Buddy._ Charlie let him out of the hotel room and shut the door behind her. A quick binding made sure that no one would be able to get in even with a key. That done, Charlotte walked downstairs and out of the hotel into the night.

The place Cuchulain had noted was a bar where a lot of the Militia and local prostitutes could be found on a rowdy night. The officers would often join the men to keep up morale and enjoy a drink or two of their own. Cuchulain sat down under a street lantern just across from the place to watch. Charlotte walked inside, waiting until she had cross the threshold before taking off the scarlet cloak, revealing the simple black sheath of a dress that left her arms bare and came down to just below her knees. This left the tattoos on her right arm and leg clearly visible and eye catching, but it wasn't the ink that turned all the heads her direction. The booster was working.

Acting as though she had no knowledge of the attention she was attracting, she made her way to the bar and took an empty seat, draping the cloak over it before sitting down. She crossed her legs so that the tattoos were clearly displayed along with the thin spikes of her heels. She hated heels, but they defined the legs and caught attention. 

The bartender was almost drooling. “Do you have what you need for a cherry mint julep? With extra cherries.” It was a simple mixed drink. Every bar had their own brand of whiskey, the Monroe Republic had the cherry orchards in Ohio and all the trees that were in the DC area, mint grew almost anywhere and sugar was a regularly traded commodity, even with the tensions high between Monroe and Georgia.

“Yes, ma'am. Coming right up.” He gave her a wide smile he really shouldn't have. It showed that he was missing three prominent teeth.

“Well, you're certainly a welcomed new face around here.” The soldier smelled of too much whiskey and he hadn't bothered to bathe before coming out tonight. Probably fresh out of the fields or just off duty. “What's your name, beautiful.” He tried to put an arm around her shoulder but she twisted firmly to dislodge it. 

“Please, I'm just here to get a drink.”

[Heads up. You've definitely got the big guy's attention. He keeps looking over in your direction.]

“I'd be happy to get you all the drinks you want, Sweetheart.”

“Hey, Mitch, I don't think the lady's interested. Why don't you stop trying to crowd over her?” Another soldier, about the same rank, jostled 'Mitch' aside.

[Holy Bacon! You really are gonna start a scene!]

 _Wait for it. It should just be getting started._ The number of men surrounding her, trying to get her attention grew. She'd added studying ranks in the Militia as part of her prep work, so she could tell the non-commissioned officers from the commissioned ones. She continued to politely turn down drinks and it started turning into brushing off uninvited hands. 

[Oh... you might need too make a run for it. The animals are getting restless!]

Now for the kill. She affected a put upon expression and made as though looking around for a quick exit. She let her eyes brush over the table where the higher ranking officers were seated. They were all looking her way, but she let her eyes lock with Monroe's for an extended second. She told herself not to look too long, just enough to send a subconscious signal that a helping hand would be welcomed.

She broke the contact. “Really, I think I just want to go, now.” She brushed off another hand that had come to rest on her knee.

[In coming!]

The voice was deep and clear. “I would hope I could expect better behavior from my men.” Like magic, the crowd parted.

[And the Alpha Dog gets the bone!]

_Did you just call me a 'bone'?_

[Well, I'm not a good judge of what's attractive for humans, but you probably could use a little more meat on the rump.]

_Maybe I should just keep a bigger share of our larger kills, then._

[On second thought, you're rump is fine.]

She met Monroe's eyes again. He seemed bigger, now that he was standing right next to her. “Thank you.”

“My apologies for that. Most of them have just come back in from the field. It can make a man stupid with loneliness.”

She gave him a smile. “So it seems. This place looked relatively peaceful from the outside.”

“It was, but a beautiful woman can stir things up.” He gave her a charming smile. “I'm General Sebastian Monroe.”

“Ah, that explains the scatter pattern when you showed up.” She extended her right hand. “Charlene O'Sullivan, but mostly I'm just called 'Charlie'.” 

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a warm and briefly lingering kiss there, his eyes never leaving hers. She let her bottom lip catch between her teeth for just a moment. 

He straightened, not letting go of her hand. “May I be so bold as to invite you to join me, Charlene?”

“Actually, after all that I think I'd rather get some fresh air.”

“Then allow me to be your escort. I'd rather not worry that you might run across any uncouth sorts.”

She pretended to hesitate a moment, then nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer.” She stood up and reached for her cloak, but his hands got their first. He draped it over her shoulders, every inch the gentleman, and placed a hand on the small of her back as he guided her from the bar.

The air outside was crisp with a bit of wind that blew the stink of the city mostly away. Once the door closed behind them she gave a double click of her tongue and Cuchulain got up from his spot across the street and padded over. Monroe gave a slight pause. 

“Sorry, I should have warned you. This is my hound, Cuchulain.” He sat on his haunches and offered a large paw to Monroe. The general arched a brow, but shook it as expected.

“An honor to meet you Cuchulain.” He turned towards her. “That was the name of a hero out of Irish legends, correct? Nice name for an Irish Wolf Hound.”

She rewarded him with a smile. “He was. Are you familiar with Celtic legends?”

“Not very, but I did recognize your artwork as knot work. It must have taken some time to get it done.”

“A little under five months. Hurt like crazy.” They began walking down the street, Cuchulain following obediently by her side. “So, General, do you usually offer to escort single women home at night?”

“Not typically, but something tells me you might be the kind to get into trouble if left unguarded.”

“Never on purpose, I swear.” She gave him an impish smile to let him know that might not be the whole truth.

He smiled back. “I feel bad that my men were so unruly you didn't even get to finish your drink.”

She sighed. “And it looked like such a tasty one, too.” He came to a stop and she followed suit. 

“Perhaps I could make it up to you?” He tilted his head towards Liberty Hall, the building they had stopped in front of. “This is where I live, and I do have a rather nice selection. Allow me to invite you in for a drink? I wouldn't mind the company.”

[Hook. Line. Sinker.]

 _Not necessarily. We'll have to see how things go inside._ “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.” She accepted his proffered arm and let him lead her inside the building.

The guards were well trained, but Charlie caught their eyes pulling towards her. Like the men scattered before Monroe at the bar, they held themselves rigid. Alpha Dog indeed. They went inside a spacious office, the kind where most likely the business of the Republic was conducted, and she let Monroe take her cloak to hang it up.

“Lovely place to live.” She gave a scratch between Cuchulain's ears and gave him a silent suggestion to take a spot before the hearth. He padded over, turned around a few times and then settled down.

“It's comfortable.” Monroe invited her to take a seat on a sofa not far from the hearth while he went over to where he kept his decanter of whiskey. “Ice?”

“No thank you.”

He poured them both three fingers worth and carried glasses and decanter back to the sofa, setting the bottle onto the side table. He offered her one of the glasses as he joined her. “So, Charlene, what brings you to Philly? I know I would have remembered if I'd seen you before.”

[Seriously? Is that the best he can do?]

 _Not the time to try and make me laugh._ “I was tired of traveling. Thought I'd take a break and see what the city folk have been up to.”

“How long do you plan on staying?”

She swallowed the whiskey. It was smooth and the burn going down to warming. “As long as I can find something to hold my interests.” She drained the rest of the glass. “So... I'm sorry, do I call you 'General' or 'Sir'? You didn't say.”

He smiled as he refilled her drink. “Bass.”

“I suppose 'Sebastian' can get to be a mouth full. But if you're 'Bass' then I am definitely 'Charlie'.”

“As you wish.” He refilled his own glass as well.

“So, _Bass_ , how is it that you know of legendary Celtic heroes and can recognize a full blooded Wolf Hound on sight?”

“A girl I used to know. Before the blackout. Some twenty-something I ran with between deployments.”

“So you were a soldier before you were a general?”

“Marines. A sergeant, actually.” He ran a finger down her right arm. “Anyway, she was a history major and obsessed with Irish and Gaelic history. She had knot work tattoos as well, though nothing this extensive. Let me see...” He leaned in closer, peering at the designs in contemplation, his fingers running over them.

“The creatures are well done. This top one isn't a stag... it's a doe. The second.... not a dog... no, don't tell me,” he instructed as she was about to volunteer the answer, “a wolf. Nice. After that is a predator bird... hawk?”

“Falcon.”

“Ah, well, 2 for 3 isn't so bad. The last is a dolphin.” He trailed his finger down the intricate knots until he reached her hand. “And this is called a triskele if I remember correctly.”

She smiled over her glass. “Very good.” She took a drink. “You go to the front of the class.”

“Really? And what does the top student get?”

She licked her bottom lip slightly, watching his eyes drift there. “There really should be a reward of some kind.” Her voice was a whisper, urging him closer. She met him halfway, pressing her lips to his, softly at first and then accepting more. She let him take the glass from her hand and set it aside with his own without breaking contact, allowing herself to be pulled closer to him as he slipped his arms around her back and beckoned.

Eventually, the kiss ended, both of them breathing just a bit more deeply. “How long did you say you were staying in my city?”

She smiled, meeting his eyes. “As long as I find something that interests me.”

He met her smile. “I think I can probably help you with that.” He sealed his mouth over hers again, this time more demanding and with a definite purpose.

[And we have contact. I'm hoping you're going to take this upstairs. Human mating rituals are just weird. I'll take a nap while you two play.]

They did make it upstairs and into a well appointed bedroom although Charlie was too busy dealing with the buttons on Monroe's clothing to pay much attention. He kicked the door closed behind them, his hands pulling at the zipper of her dress until he could let it fall to the floor. Before she could get any further with his shirt he lifted her up and set her on the bed. She gave a noise of protest as he pulled away.

“Patience.” She could hear the smile in his voice as he turned to a bedside table and lit the oil lamp there. “I want to see what I'm doing.” He turned back to her to find her in nothing but the black panties she had bought specifically for this operation and the heels. She smirked at the hungry expression on his face as he started in earnest to remove his shirt. Scooting to the edge of the bed she took hold of his belt and began unfastening his pants. He was wearing far more clothing that she.

Once his clothing hit the floor he was on her, his body pressing her back into the mattress. She was nice enough to ditch her heels before she stabbed him with them. Their hands explored one another with a feverish intensity and Charlie arched as she felt his hand move down to slip inside the delicate lace and part her folds there. He growled, finding her wet already and she laughed as he gripped the panties and tore them away, the lace shredding. Maybe she'd made that pheromone booster a bit too strong. 

He gripped her leg and urged it over his hip. She capitulated by bring the other one up and encircling him with the pair. Their eyes remained locked together and he took himself in hand and placed himself at her entrance. She racked her bottom lip with her teeth, anticipating the first hard thrust. He didn't disappoint and she rolled her hips up to meet him.

He caught her head with his hands, his mouth slashing across hers hungrily and without mercy. She showed none as well, nipping at his lips when he dared to pull back enough for air. She raked her nails down his back until she could dig them roughly into the cheeks of his ass, demanding more from him. He met her challenge, animalistic growls rumbling from his chest and throat. They remained locked that way, biting and raking and fucking until the pressure built up to its breaking point. Charlie's body clamped down on his as she broke their kiss to yell out in bliss. He continued to thrust, trying to keep her on the precipice as long as he could while he moved his lips to bite and suck at the tender skin of her throat. 

He felt his balls draw in tight, felt his own peak approaching and drew his hands down her body until he could grip her hips with tight fingers, holding her to him as he let go. He wanted to mark this magnificent creature, cover her in his scent so that any other male would know to keep his hands to himself. 

Once the white haze of his orgasm cleared, he let himself fall atop her, pushing her into his bed as though he wanted to trap her there. Keep her there for his enjoyment whenever he wanted. He'd have to thank Daniels for talking him into going out for that drink later. 

Charlie moved under him and he felt himself being moved onto his back with a strength he wouldn't have expected from the woman. Now he was looking up at her, her hair a glorious mess and her eyes wild and hungry. She attacked, her lips latching onto his with an almost predatory need. He welcomed the aggression from her, partly in shock and partly because he'd never had a woman turn the tables on him like this. 

She broke the kiss and bit his chin hard enough to be noticed, but not hard enough to bruise. He tilted his head back as she suckled and nibbled her way down his throat, across the bones of his clavicles and towards his chest. She tasted and teased each nipple in turn, nipping at them with a feminine growl of her own after she'd coaxed them to a hardness that actually came with a tight bit of pain. 

Bass lifted his head up, watching her as she worked her way down his body. She moved over him like a cat, licking at his skin like he were made of cream. He was still semi-hard when she reached his cock and his eyes couldn't tear away from the sight of her taking a lone, slow lick along the sensitive underside, eyes closed as though in bliss. He reached down with one hand and threaded it into her hair, just holding the silken strands as she started to pull him into her mouth with an almost worshipful air. He let himself enjoy it, the heat of her mouth and the swirling motions of her tongue as she sucked him back to full attention. When he was ready he fisted his hand and pulled hard on her hair. She got the message and crawled back up him until she could impale herself onto him.

He held her hips with his hands, watching as the slender, well-muscled body rose and fell over him. The light from the lamp flickered over her sweat dampened skin and for a moment he mourned the loss of modern cameras that would have been able to capture the raw carnality of the moment. 

This time they could take longer. He sat up, hands moving up her back and fingers exploring roughly to mark her. He wanted her skin to bear his fingerprints come morning. He captured her mouth again and tasted the combined flavor of both of them on her tongue. She reached behind her and took his arms into her hands, pulling them away so she could use them for anchors as she leaned back, changing the angle of the strokes. He let her, watching her breasts rise and fall with her motions and her breathing, her head falling back and her hair a honeyed curtain falling down. He knew when she was getting close again, because she began to lose the rhythm, trying hard not to mess up the pace. That when he pulled her back up, taking control again and keeping her with him. There was something savage in him that enjoyed hearing her scream out with her orgasm again and he again tried to keep her on that high as long as possible until he joined her. 

She still sat straddling his hips, their breathing harsh and mingled. Her eyes were closed and her forehead resting against his as he held her. He licked his lips before speaking. “Thirsty?”

She gave a hoarse chuckle. “Very.”

He twisted, laying her onto her side before pulling out fully. He let himself catch a few more breaths before he got up and padded to the dressing table where the house staff always made sure to put a pitcher of water and glass in case needed. 

“Damn, it's a shame you hide all that in a uniform, but I suppose it would be unseemly for the head of the Republic to walk around bare assed all the time.”

He smiled as he poured the water on his way back to the bed. He handed her the glass and let her drink first. “Well, based on tonight's events, if you went around that way there'd be riots. For the record, I'm against riots, but feel free to stay just like that for as long as your in here.”

She had come up to a seated position, on leg bent back and the other bent in front of her body. She was beautifully and heedlessly unashamed of her nudity and he watched her throat as she drank the water. She handed him back the glass, her appraising gaze frank. “One hell of a welcome mat you roll out, General, Sir.”

He had to laugh. “Well, I do like visitors to my fair city to feel at home.” He downed a glass of his own before offering her a second one which she accepted and drank before surrendering it back to him. He set the pitcher and empty glass down and turned back to find her getting up to her knees and draping her long arms about his neck. He accepted a kiss, but kept it gentle. “I'm going to need a rest.”

An impish light graced her eyes. “Oh, did I wear the big bad general out?” A smile was tugging at her lips.

“Oh, you're going to pay for that one.”

Her expression brightened. “Promise?”

“Promise, but not right now.” He pushed her back onto the bed, joining her there and draping and arm over her waist. “Now,we rest.”

“You're used to getting your way, aren't you.” It wasn't a question.

“Comes with the job title. People pretty much do what I say. You?”

“I pretty much do what I want.” She lay boneless and relaxed next to him, basking in the afterglow. “Not much for the whole following orders thing.”

He reached up and toyed with a necklace that still hung around her throat. Two metal nails worked together, a style of cross that was popular once with the edgier crowd before the Blackout. This one seemed... cruder, however. A bit larger than what he remembered, and heavier. It seemed out of place on her. “So I take it you think you'd make a poor soldier.”

“Oh I'd make a horrible soldier. I'd have to sleep my way up the ladder.”

He had to laugh. She put it with such blunt honesty that he couldn't help himself. “Well, if you do decide to enlist while you're in town, I recommend starting at the top.”

“Good advice. Oh, wait.” She was grinning. “Nah, I'm not a soldier.” 

She let him explore at his leisure, his hand making lazy paths over her skin. He took up the hand with the triskele tattoo and turned it over, his thumb marking the callouses there. “But you know your way around some kind of weapon. These patterns match what I see from sword work and your fingers,” he ran his thumb over them as well, “have bow lines.”

“It's a harsh world out there. A girl has to know how to take care of herself and how to put food in the dog's bowl. It's not all lace panties and pretty shoes.” That seemed to remind her of something. “By the way, those were new.”

He grinned. “Wear another pair tomorrow and I just might rip those off, too.”

Her brow arched. “Oh, tomorrow? Rather bold assumption considering we just met.”

She was playing with him. “Rather mouthy of you, considering the second round happened because you sucked me back to attention.” He wanted her again already and moved purposefully to cover her. It surprised him when she pushed back. He didn't catch on until he saw the smile. She was still playing and he felt like obliging her. It turned into a light hearted wrestling match, his superior upper both strength against her stronger legs and abdominals. Eventually, he won, getting her pinned face down against the mattress with her arms pinned. 

“I told you that you'd pay for that remark.”

He saw her grin in the dim light. “I don't feel like I'm paying much of anything right now.”

“Oh really?” He used one of his legs to nudge one of hers upwards, allowing him to enter her from behind. He heard the earthy moan escape her. He couldn't get as deep this way, but this angle felt tighter and would rub her inside in different ways. “Let's see what we can do about that.”

** Morning **

[Charlie? Are you awake, yet?]

“Mmm... yeah.” She heard a soft grunt from beside her and remembered she was not alone. _What is it, Baby?_

[I'm getting hungry and I really need to pee.]

 _Sorry, Sweetheart_. She started to get up but a hand shot out and gripped her arm. It took quick thinking on her part not to attack. She looked over and saw Monroe's eyes open and looking at her.

“Where are you going?” In answer she pointed with her free hand to the door. He turned his head and looked. Soft whines could be heard from just outside.

“He needs to go for a walk. And I should be getting back to my hotel.”

“Why?” He turned back. “I can have someone see to him for you.”

“He's my dog. He shouldn't have to deal with a stranger. And I need a bath and a fresh change of clothes. Those are back at my room.”

Monroe turned over onto his back, looking at her. “So you were just going to slink off?” He reached for her and pulled her towards him.

“I didn't realize there were rules against it.” She allowed the kiss, even participated. “But it's morning, I'm sticky, although in a good way, and the dog I've known since he was a puppy needs his walk. Food, too.”

“I can see to all of that.” Damn, that booster worked a little too well.

“I'm sure that you can, but I am expressing my desire to see to it myself.” She tilted her head in study. “Why are you set against it?”

“Because I rather enjoyed last night and I would prefer to repeat it.”

She smiled and trailed a finger down his chest. “Well, then, how about you get up and see to the very important job of running the Republic, and if you're still wanting more later, you can invite me back in.”

“Seven.”

She arched a brow. “Seven?”

“My dinner is served at Seven each night. I'll tell the guards to expect you.”

Oh. “Is this a real dinner or should I eat before I come over?”

He smiled. “I'll feed you. Then I'm going to pin you back to this mattress and make you forget your own name.”

Her smile returned. “That, _mon général,_ sounds like an excellent idea.” She kissed him, lingering and slow, before pulling away and sliding off the bed. She felt him watching her as she moved around the bed to reclaim her dress and slip it on.

“Charlie?” She looked back over at him. “Just so you know, I don't like to be kept waiting.”

She was zipping up the back of her dress as she studied him. “Will you punish me again if I do?”

“Try it and find out.”

She smiled again and picked up her shoes, but didn't put them on. She left the shredded pair of panties where he'd dropped them and opened the door. Cuchulain was waiting for her, doing a little doggie dance like he was going to burst.

Charlie and hound walked down the stairs and back into the main hallway. [You two got really loud last night. The guards were talking about it. I think they were jealous.]

 _Then they should find themselves some enthusiastic girlfriends. It will make their lives less stressful._ She reclaimed her cloak from the study and wrapped it around her shoulders, but not before catching sight of herself in a mirror. She looked like a woman who had been quite thoroughly fucked.

She walked barefoot, not noticing the cold thanks to a binding Atticus had taught her to raise her core temperature, and she and Cuchulain cut across through the well manicured park. He got up close and personal to the large tree there she had already come to know while she said a fond hello to 'Fairmount', the Elemental who was the main power in this particular area. In her prep work she had set up a tether to Tir na nOg through the tree in case she needed to make a quick get away. A lot of the tethers her arch Druid had set up when he had come to the new world were lost to urban sprawl and industrialization. He had taught her the bindings and had encouraged her to make new ones whenever possible. So far she had placed about a half dozen in and around the city, just in case.

Once Cuchulain had done his business and had sniffed around to his content, they finished their trek to the hotel where they were staying. The manager at the desk seemed a bit taken aback by her disheveled appearance, but she ignored him. “I'd like my bath sent up, as well as breakfast. Steak and eggs still available?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good, usual order. Mine with onions and cooked medium, his without onions and rare,” she finished with a tilt of her head to Cuchulain. “And I'd like a tea pot of hot water sent up with it.”

“Right away, Ma'am.” Hey, when you paid as well as she did, people didn't ask a lot of questions.

She made it upstairs and undid the bindings on the door she had placed to keep out any potential thieves. Stepping in, she waited until the hot water for her bath and tea were brought up. The food followed shortly after. She thanked the staff, she would add extra gold for a tip for them later, and put Cuchulain's food down for him. 

[This is awesome! You're the best human ever.]

_Thank you for your patience this morning. Sorry you had to wait so long. I didn't expect him to be so... clingy._

[Maybe it's that stuff you drank.]

_Possibly. It is supposed to keep the libido up as well as increase the chances of conception._

[Whoa.] He lifted his muzzle from his plate. [You mean that stuff might get you pregnant?] He watched her as she recovered her herb bundle from under the bed and started blending. [And you're making more of it?]

_You're supposed to taper the dosage down, not quit cold. Don't worry, women usually take this for months to get pregnant when they're having trouble. I don't plan to be on it for more than a week, ten days at most._

[What happens then?]

_Well, as I taper off the dose, I put off fewer and fewer pheromones The rest of the men should start losing interest first, then eventually Monroe should get tired of me._

She set the tea to steep, pulled a table near the tub and climbed into the hot water. She was too hungry to wait to eat and too sticky to wait to bathe. She dismissed the binding that kept her body temperature up in the chill so she'd stop burning the extra calories. Everything had a side effect.

[What happens when Monroe gets tired of you?]

_Then I stop sleeping with him and hopefully he'll have enough fond memories of when we were fuck buddies that he won't pay too close attention to what I'm doing. We'll wait for the unit that took Danny to return, watch for where they put him and sneak him out right from under their noses._

[Got it.] He put his furry muzzle back down into his steak, but paused and looked back up. [Charlie?]

_Yes, Sweetie?_

[What if the tea stuff wears off, but Monroe doesn't get tired of you? He sounded rather attached.]

_That was just him still reacting to the pheromone signature my body was giving off. Don't worry. He's a known womanizer, incapable of settling on just one girl. In about two weeks or so he'll be ready to move on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, Comments are my drug of choice


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little flashback of Charlie and Cuchulain sniffs out something interesting.

** Charlotte, age 18 **

The floor of the cave was smooth but hard. Still, this was a nice, secure place for them to work. The binding of a new Druid had to take place in the Old World, meaning they had traveled via the tethers from the New World to Tir na nOg and then from Tir na nOg to here. Granuaille was in charge of security with three of the hounds; Oberon, Orla and Cuchulain. The cave was well hidden, you'd miss it entirely if you didn't know where to look, but Atticus gave new meaning to the word 'paranoia'.

“This is it. No turning back after this. Once we start, we don't stop until all the tattoos are done. So I'll ask you again; are you sure this is the path you want to walk?”

Her heart was hammering wildly inside her chest. A little over eight years of study. Learning languages, lore, the true meanings behind the beautiful knot work art and all the martial training, all of it coming to this point. “I'm sure.”

The tattoos had to be done with thorns from a plant still living and rooted in the earth. The dyes were all made from natural sources. Both initiate and teacher would have to be focused, only taking breaks as needed for sleep and food. The process could take between four and five months. Her father had been furious when had told him that she was leaving with the O'Sullivans for a while, but that she would be back. The occasional two to three days for “hunting” trips had been okay, they usually came back with a good haul even though only one of those days was ever actually spent hunting. Dad had been grateful to the O'Sullivans for getting her to actually use her mind, something that there had been little incentive to do after the Blackout. She hadn't understood the big deal about that until Atticus had pointed out that she had accomplished in eight years what most took twelve to thirteen to do, indicating that she was one of those people with a greater raw learning potential than others. A 'genius' who would have gone to waste had someone not been able to inspire her. She might have even finished sooner, but as he pointed out “No brain is big enough to shortcut training the physical body. You have to learn how to take your knocks the old fashioned way for that, Kid.” Then he had attacked her legs with a quarterstaff and sent her flat on her back.

“This first one on the bottom of the foot is going too hurt, but it's the start.” He'd told her this before, but she knew he was still giving her the chance to back out if she wasn't ready for this. She just gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile and nodded. He nodded back and closed his eyes. She knew he was reaching down, connecting with the earth itself. He had told her that the current common term for the 'Big Mamma of all Elementals' was 'Gaia', and she would be the one with whom both of them would be in contact with during her bindings. She couldn't do it yet, she needed that first tattoo, the binding itself, but Atticus needed to be in touch with her so that she could guide his work.

Charlotte knew when he was ready. She watched as his hand took hold of the thorn bush, dipping one of the long, sharp points into the ink and then moved it to her foot where it rested on his knee. She felt the point of the thorn sink into her flesh as he tapped it, driving the ink into the layers of skin. It was painful, and it was long. Celtic knot work, those beautiful drawings that for most were just pretty art but for those like Atticus and his wife were the bindings and spells that connected all things of nature, were intricate and time consuming to make. She bore through the pain, aware of her own blood sliding down her skin in drops as he worked, until he completed the design. 

He had released the thorn bush and pushed the bowl of ink awake before taking her gently by the ankle and toes. “Ready?” Charlotte had nodded her head. If possible, her heart was racing even faster. This was the moment when she would finally begin to bring all her training and study together. Atticus had gingerly moved her leg so that her foot came off of his knee and lowered the raw and bleeding skin to the earthen floor of the cave.

And Charlotte had passed out.

It hadn't been from the pain. The human mind just isn't really made to understand something the size and scope of the Earth herself. That first tattoo that bound her in servitude to the planet also acted as a filter to protect her sanity. It was just that that first true connection was so overwhelming that it pulled her inside herself, because all that she could feel and hear was a warm and loving thought. //Welcome, Child//

She wasn't certain how long she had stayed that way. There was so much in her head. Gaia spoke of the Jurassic period with fondness and as though it had just happened last week. She was shown memories of Pangea and of the movement of the tectonic plates that brought about the continental drift. Of slow moving glaciers during the ice age and how they carved new features into the landscape. Of the tiniest micro-organisms and their place in the greater chain of life to the massive blue whales, the largest animal ever to roam the planet. 

Eventually Gaia had released her so that she could see to the needs of her own body, and she had awoken to find that Atticus had taken advantage of her unconscious state to get quite a bit of the work up her calf done. They ate and slept, and the next day they continued the process, both student and teacher in sync with the earth as Charlotte became only the second new Druid since their near eradication two thousand years before.

** Philadelphia **

[No, seriously, what happens if you get pregnant by this douche? I mean, he's not exactly the kind of guy Atticus or Granuaille would approve of?]

Cuchulain had been obsessing on and off over the subject since this morning. _Atticus and Granuaille don't tell me who I can and can't sleep with._

[Oh, yeah? What about Goibhniu?]

_Granuaille blew that whole thing out of proportion. And it wasn't Goibhniu she had a problem with, it was that I was seventeen and he was over five thousand._

[That sounds like a really big age difference.]

_It is, but I still don't know why she couldn't just keep out of it. Neither of us were in it for the long haul. I was curious about the whole sex thing and he was someone I trusted. Taught me a lot._

[But what if...]

_If 'it' happens, then I'll just have to accept the consequences and raise the child the best that I can. Just because Monroe is a jackass doesn't mean the kid would be. And at least he's a pretty jackass, so any theoretical child would likely be quite lovely._

She was again walking barefoot across the green park, taking the time to make sure her reserves were full. She knew that she couldn't go into Liberty Hall armed, so if there was a problem she'd have to 'Druid' her way out. When they ran out of park, she put her shoes on. _If I could go back in time and find the person who invented the high heeled shoe, I'd punch their lights out._

[It still amazes me that you can walk on those tiny little pegs and not fall. Your sense of balance is awesome.] Well, at least she'd gotten him off the baby thing.

She had thought of making him wait, but in the end decided she should save that until she was completely off the booster and his ardor would be starting to cool. Instead she arrived at Liberty Hall five minutes before seven, gracing the two young guards with a bright smile. She saw their pupils dilate and their obvious effort not to check her out. Apparently fear of their 'alpha dog' overrode libido. “Miss Charlie O'Sullivan to see General Monroe. I believe he's expecting me.”

The one closer to the doorknob swallowed hard. “Yes, Ma'am.” He opened the door for her and let her in. She remembered her way to the to the office and heard voices from inside as she approached another guard at the door. 

The imp in her took a step closer than was really needed, just to see the boy swallow hard. Okay, it was a little mean, but this was really doing wonders for her self esteem as a woman. “Charlie O'Sullivan, the General is expecting me.”

The soldier's hand was shaking a bit as he rapped twice on the door. Monroe's 'What' was a bit sharp, but the soldier opened the door. 

She walked in, heels clicking on the worn wood of the floors as she unfastened the riding cloak and draped it over one arm. “Incoming?”

He was standing at a table with a map on it, four other men with him. His eyes lifted up and she watched them change from irritated to hungry in an instant. Well, they all looked hungry. She couldn't wean off this stuff fast enough. 

“Gentlemen, my dinner guest has arrived. We'll finish this tomorrow.” It was a curt dismissal, but the others got the point. Charlie hung her cloak on the hook by the wall, allowing a view of the lacing down her back. This was the other dress she'd had made, and it was meant for pure fantasy. A light blue corset that matched her eyes attached to a handkerchief hemline skirt that swirled airily with the slightest movement but never bared more than to about mid thigh. She'd pulled the idea from an old pre-Blackout fantasy magazine showing what they called a wood nymph. It seemed fitting for someone like her.

The other men filed out. She kept her eyes on Monroe's, not needing confirmation of how she was affecting any of them. Their wives should have an interesting evening of it. Until the last man, who stopped next to her. She glanced up to find him looking at Cuchulain with a cold, calculating interest. 

“Beautiful animal.” He looked at her hound like he was wondering what it would be like to dissect him. 

Just like that, the flirtatious nymph fell away and she let her cold, flat stare, the one she wore wen she walked up and down the rows of Militia held fast by earth and vines to cut their throats. He felt the pressure of her stare and met her eyes. “Off. Limits.” The words were firm, and she saw the man recognize the killer inside her. He gave her a slight smile and a tilt of his head in acknowledgment.

“Sergeant Strausser, is there something more?”

“No, Sir. Just admiring the dog. Good evening to you both.” Strausser left, Charlie's eyes watching him until the door shut behind him.

“Well, he's a rather distasteful fellow.”

“He has his uses.” Monroe had reached her and pulled her around to face him. His lips claimed hers before she could say anything more. The kiss was heated and demanding, his hands roaming over her bare arms as he molded her to him.

[If you need me, I'll be by the fire.] Cuchulain made his way over to the hearth and flopped down onto his side. 

Monroe pressed her back against the door, his lips trailing from her mouth, over her jawline and down her neck. She made a pleased sound and let her hands travel up to thread through the curls of his hair. “Maybe I should have eaten before coming over.” He growled low in his throat and she chuckled in response. “Tell me at least that your cook isn't the temperamental sort, getting into a huff if you let his efforts go cold.”

He pulled back and looked at her. “My apologies, I did say I would feed you first.”

“You did.” She played with the buttons on his shirt, fingers just short of undoing them as she licked her lips to moisten them. “And if you really do intend to manage to make me forget my own name, I will likely need the fuel.”

“There is that. I believe he's prepared stuffed pork chops for tonight. I had him cook a couple more for Cuchulain. Any objection to that?”

“He certainly won't have any. You're not trying to steal my dog from me, are you?”

Monroe smiled at her, walking back a bit and pulling gently at her hand to encourage her to follow. “No, but I get the feeling that if he doesn't like me it could make things difficult for me. Something tells me you wouldn't tolerate anyone he didn't like.”

[He may be a jackass, but he's a smart one.]

He walked her from the office into a smaller room that was apparently used for formal meals. The table was already being set, the aroma of well prepared food starting to fill the air. The female soldier seeing to the placement looked at a single platter with three plain chops on it and looked up in askance.

“Set that one down there.” Monroe pointed to a spot before the heart. Cuchulain's tail wagged excitedly as he padded over towards her, giving her his best puppy eyes. “Those are his.”

“Yes, Sir.” She looked cautious of the large animal, but set down the platter. Cuchulain managed to sneak in a thankful lick against her hand before bending his head down to his dinner. 

Monroe dismissed the soldier and held out a chair for Charlie. “You look beautiful. Thank you for coming, and arriving on time. I needed the reminder to take a break.”

“You did make it clear that you don't like to be kept waiting.” 

He brushed his fingers across her shoulders and the back of her neck as he walked from behind her to take his own seat. “I was expecting you to be 'fashionably late' just to tease me.”

She smiled. “I considered it, then I got hungry.” She smoothed a napkin over her lap. “Besides, I can always tease you later.”

He poured wine from a light green bottle for each of them. “So what have you been up to all day, after being so insistent on deserting me this morning?”

She shrugged as she started cutting into her meal. “Went back to my room, had a hot bath, started reconsidering my plans.”

His brow arched, curious. “Plans?”

“Well, I had been thinking of packing up and heading out tomorrow, but last night I ran into something interesting.”

He toyed with his glass, looking at her. “Something interesting. Like what?”

She gave a vague gesture of her hand. “Oh, just some guy I met. He struck a chord. Now I'm wondering if I shouldn't linger in town for a little longer.”

“What would be the deciding factor?”

“What he thinks about the idea. I wouldn't want to make a pest of myself.”

“I see.” A tilted smile pulled at his mouth. “And if the gentleman in question were in favor of you staying in town?”

Charlie sighed. “Then instead of hitting the road I'll be spending tomorrow engaged in one of the most distasteful activities I know.” He arched a brow in silent inquiry. “Shopping.”

He laughed, hard enough that it took him a moment to stop. “Shopping. That's the most distasteful activity you can think of?”

“I loathe it. I hate the snooty little shop clerks. I hate how they patronize you and all the sucking up. And I really hate how they respond to Cuchulain. They see a large dog and immediately think dangerous and destructive, but he's better behaved than most people's children.”

[Oh, thank you for that. I have worked very hard to improve my manners. And most kids act like those high strung chihuahuas anyway.]

“I apologize. I guess I've had others dealing with such issues for me for so long I've forgotten what a hassle it can be.” He was still trying not to laugh and she gave him a narrowed glare in response. “Perhaps I can help?”

“Not unless you can morph into me so you can try on clothes.”

“I could at least watch after Cuchulain for you. Leave him here in the morning. I can continue my efforts to win his approval, it will give us time to bond.”

[If I stay with him, you want me to be good or bad?]

_Good. This could work in our favor. If he's okay with having you around, you'll have a good chance of hearing something important we need to know.”_

[Oh, that's a good idea right there. I'll be like a super spy dog.]

_Just don't let it go to your head._ You're offering to babysit my dog?”

Monroe gave a single shouldered shrug. “Like you said, he's extremely well behaved and he's clearly important to you. Besides, you're right about people being intimidated by an animal as large as he. I'd like to see the faces of the officers when they come in and find him in my office.”

She grinned. “You're a bit of a brat sometimes, aren't you?”

“A man has to find his humor somewhere. And sometimes I just need a break from the pressure of the job.” 

They finished their meal with light banter and some not-so-light flirting. He called for someone to clear away their plates while they continued to linger over the wine. Charlie was aware that his eyes were roving over her and the hunger she had seen in him earlier and had diverted by reminding him that he had promised there would be dinner first was returning. She watched him to see when he'd make his move. 

When it came, he struck like a cobra. One moment she was seated to his right, the next he knocked the glasses and bottle aside and grabbed her, pulling her across the top of the table to him. She only laughed and went with it, slipping her arms around his neck as he kissed her. She was now sitting on the table with him standing between her legs. He silenced her laughter by claiming her mouth with his own, his lips fierce and demanding.

[Aw geez. Give a hound some warning.] Cuchulain got up from where he had been letting his belly rest from his very excellent pork chops. He walked over to the door, grabbed the knob with his jaws and worried it open. Monroe stopped to look at that, watching the dog nose the door open and walk out.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “I didn't raise you in a barn!” He came back, grabbed the knob from the other side and pulled the door shut again.

Bass looked back to her. “Okay, you're gotta have to tell me how you taught him to do that.”

Charlie moved her arms from around his neck and leaned back on her palms to look at him. “Now?” She let more than a little incredulity slip into her tone.

It worked. Monroe raked his eyes over the swell of her breasts where they were pushed up by the tight bodice of her dress to the slatternly way her legs were open and shook his head. “No, not now.” He gripped her hips and pulled her closer to the edge of the table as he used his foot to reach back and bring his chair back in so he could sit down. “Now, I'm thinking I want my dessert.”

** A little after midnight **

[Charlie?]

_Yeah, Sweetie? You need to go out?_

[Well, yeah, but that's not why I woke you.]

_You didn't wake me. I was thinking_. She had been going over her calculations with the tea. Not that she didn't enjoy a good romp in the bed, and Monroe sure as hell knew what to do with his equipment, but he was a bit too... wound up. Even for what she was trying to do. Had she gotten the tea too strong to begin with? No longer than she had been on it, she should be safe to cut the strength a bit more sharply and get off of it sooner. _What's up?”_

[Well, while you and Monroe were doing your thing, I was exploring the house. I found something strange.]

_Strange how?_

[There's a room that's kept locked and a guard outside it. I sniffed around the door and I could tell there was a woman inside.]

_Poor thing's probably a political prisoner or collateral he's holding against someone._

[Maybe... but she smells kind of like you.]

Charlie frowned into the darkness. _Like me? What do you mean?_

[Well, not like you've been around her, because we both know you haven't, but kinda like how Danny smells like you and your dad smelled like you. Like how I smell kinda of like Oberon and Orla.]

_You mean she smells like family?_

[Yeah! Like family.]

What the hell? _Where are you?_

[Sacked out in the office by the fireplace.]

_Stay there, I'm on my way._ She looked at the sleeping Monroe, wondering what the hell was up with this new development. She slipped out of the bed carefully so as not to wake him. Putting that dress back on would take too long, so she picked up the shirt he had discarded once they made their way up to the bedroom. He had enough height on her that it would fall almost to mid-thigh. Not that she was bashful, but she probably should walk around starkers when he had guards inside the house at all times. She was still buttoning it up when she padded down the stairs and made it into the office. Cuchulain got to his feet at once. “Show me,” she told him in a soft voice and he headed out.

There was a single guard posted outside the door. He was young, barely old enough to shave. He also wasn't sure what to think about the woman spending the night with the general coming down the hallway wearing only Monroe's shirt and accompanied by that massive dog of hers. 

Charlie affected a slightly embarrassed expression. “Excuse me, but could you help me? Cuchulain needs to go out, but I'm not really dressed for it. Could you do it for me? He won't give you any problems, I swear.” She saw the boy's adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “I'll hold your spot. No one will know.”

He looked at her and then at the dog, then back at her. “I really shouldn't, Miss.”

“Please? It'd be a big help.” She stepped in a bit closer and watched his pupils dilate. Poor kid.

“All right.” She rewarded him with a smile and verbally told Cuchulain to go with him. The soldier left with her hound, leaving her with the door.

The doorknob and lock were metal, made from ores taken from the earth. Tapping into her reserves she let herself see the bindings, allowing her to move the tumblers and unlock the door. She turned the knob carefully and opened the door.

There were a couple of lamps still lit, along with the fireplace. She heard someone moving papers quickly, trying to be quiet about it. Charlie stepped inside the room, her eyes adjusting from the brighter lanterns of the hallway to the dimmer light in here. She saw the woman by the sofa and froze, not quite believing her eyes. 

She stood there, firelight gracing her thin features and sliding along her golden hair. Not trusting what her eyes were telling her, Charlie constructed the bindings that bound her vision to the magical spectrum. Suddenly she could see the intricate knots that bound all of Nature together. The woman at the sofa still looked the same, only now Charlie could see the beautifully knots and bindings that connected them, stretching between the two women like an anchor.

She turned and softly closed the door behind her, dismissing the bindings and trying to wrap her mind around this. Then, finally, the woman spoke.

“Charlie?” Her voice was barely a whisper, as though Rachel Matheson was afraid her daughter would vanish if she spoke to loudly. Charlie turned back around and looked at her mother, her heart racing. “Charlie... it is you. I'd know you anywhere.” Tears were forming in her mother's eyes and she took a tentative step in her direction. “Look at you. You're beautiful.”

Charlie stepped away from the door and further into the room. “Keep your voice down. I distracted the guard, but we can't be overheard.” They met midway in the room, both of them afraid to touch the other in case this was a dream. “We were told you were dead. Have you been here this whole time?”

Rachel swallowed and nodded, finally daring to reach up and touch Charlie's face. She traced the bones and skin with trembling fingers. “Monroe has been keeping me here. He said... he said Ben was dead and that he had Danny. He didn't say he had you.”

“He doesn't know he has me. I gave him another name. As far as he knows I'm just some pretty girl who rolled into town.” Charlie grasped her mother's hands to still them. “Mom, why does he have you here? What does he want from you?”

Rachel was looking her over. “That's a militia uniform shirt. Charlie, why are you wearing that?”

“It's not important. Mom, why does Monroe have you? Why is he bringing Danny here?”

She knew the exact moment her mother put two and two together from her disheveled appearance and wearing only a man's shirt. “That's Monroe's. You're sleeping with Monroe?”

Charlie caught her mother's face in her hand. “Mom, it's not important. I just need him happy and stupid so he doesn't notice when I sneak Danny out from under his nose.” She was already going over the new information in her head. “Of course now I have to alter those plans. I can't get you out of here now, that would put him on alert. I'll have to find a way to take you at the same time.”

[Charlie? This guy is getting restless.]

She let out a sigh. “Mom, we're out of time. The guard is going to come back and I need to be outside the door when he does.” She made Rachel look at her. “If you hear Monroe mention a Charlie, Charlene or an O'Sullivan, he's talking about me. If he comes in here with an Irish Wolf Hound some day, that's Cuchulain, and he's mine. Try not to react.” She pulled her mother into a hug. “I'll come back when I can. It won't be easy, but I'll find a way. I promise.”

Rachel squeezed her back. “Be careful. Monroe is dangerous. If he figures out who you are...”

“He won't. You're the only person in town who knows, and I think I can trust you.” She let her go and backed up to the door. “As soon as I can find a chance to do so, I'll be back.” She accepted Rachel's nod as understanding and slipped back out thru the door. She redid the locks and got away from it, leaning against the opposite wall as though she never left when the soldier came back with Cuchulain. 

“He give you any problems.”

“He wanted to play a bit, but I shouldn't have left in the first place. Got him to come back in.” The young soldier blushed. “He's a nice dog, Miss.”

“He's family. Thank you so much for doing that for me. I swear I won't tell anyone.” She gave him a smile and walked away with Cuchulain. They went back through the office where Cuchulain reclaimed his place in front of the hearth, belly facing the warmth. Charlie went back to Monroe's room.

When she opened the door she froze as she heard the sound of a hammer being pulled back on a gun. She met his eyes, barely visible in the light from the hallway behind her. With herculean effort she shoved the rage she was feeling towards him at that moment down somewhere deep to be dealt with later and lifted her hands. “I'm unarmed?”

He released the trigger carefully and set the sidearm on the table next to his side of the bed. “Where were you?”

“Cuchulain needed to go out. The joys of owning a dog.”

He gave a grunt, his eyes raking over her. “You look good in my shirt.”

“Guess it's a good thing I didn't want to get back into that turkey truss again, then.” She summoned a smile. “Can I come in?”

He met her eyes. “Light the lamp.” He rolled from his stomach onto his back. “And keep the shirt on.”


	4. Chapter 4

** Philadelphia – 2 weeks later ** 

[You did stop taking the tea, right?]

_Yes, I did. Over a week ago. You know I did._

[So, why are we still going to Monroe's every night?]

Charlie sighed. _Because apparently he hasn't gotten tired of me yet. Maybe I should hint we should go out for dinner. Someplace with other women around. Someone else might catch his eye._

[I don't think that will work. I haven't sniffed his ass or anything, but he definitely still smells interested in you.]

“I noticed.” She grumbled the last part as they reached the edge of the park and she slipped on her shoes. _There's nothing to do about it but wait it out. It's bound to pass sometime._

[You hope.]

The guards didn't even bother to make her identify herself any longer. And they didn't drool over her, either. There was a part of her that was missing that, but it was probably a part of her psyche she was better off not tapping into so often. She and Cuchulain were allowed to enter and she made her way to Monroe's office as if on autopilot. 

He was sitting in his chair when she entered, eyes unfocused as if in deep contemplation. Cuchulain padded over to his side and nosed his hand with his muzzle to remind him that the dog would appreciate a petting. That broke whatever spell Monroe was under and had him looking up. He smiled once he saw her, looking happy and content. He gave a few firm scratches between Cuchulain's ears before standing up and coming around the desk, arms opening to invite her into his embrace. She walked in and returned his kiss. The only change she had been able to detect him in was a lessening in the raw hunger he had been displaying while she was using the booster. Now his kisses were deeper but somehow more passionate for all their gentleness. 

And it worried her.

“We don't have to chase out any underlings today?”

“I got rid of them hours ago. I wanted time to think.” He ran his hands down her arms. “I'm glad you're finally here. This is the best part of my day.”

[Yeah, he sounds like he's really getting bored.]

_Shut it._ “Hard day?”

“Just sometimes I feel like I'm surrounded by idiots.” He kissed her again. “Come on. I'm starving.”

Dinner was in the usual dining room. She had stopped wondering why he didn't just have it sent to his bedroom since that was always their next stop after the meal. He still played the part of the gentleman, holding out her chair for her and pouring the wine himself. He still made certain the kitchen made an extra portion of whatever meat they were having for Cuchulain. 

“I was wanting to discuss something with you this evening.”

Charlie looked up from cutting into the steak on her plate. “What's on your mind?”

“I'd like to offer you a job.”

That made her blink. “A job? You've got soldiers and officers with skills in nearly every possible field you need. What would you require me for?”

“Our dogs. You obviously know your way around canines, Cuchulain is a masterpiece of training. I believe you could make vast improvements in our own program.”

“I can take a look at what you've got set up. Dogs really aren't that hard to get along with. You just have to respect them and remember they were evolved from wolves. Pack mentality is still part of their makeup. I know there's an opposite school of thought that feels you can terrorize them into doing what you want, but that's bullshit. All you do is create an animal waiting for you to show the first sign of weakness so it can rip our your throat in retaliation.” She gave a shrug. “You treat them like family.”

[You're my family, Charlie. Always will be.]

_Same here, Buddy._

Monroe opened his hands in a sort of 'you see?' gesture. “That's what I'm needing. That insight into them and someone who can make the men understand that their dogs are their partners, not their servants. Will you take the job?”

A job was dangerously close to saying that she'd stay, and she had no intention of doing so. Still, it would give her good cover for being here. Besides, it would keep her in the loop when the man finally started behaving the way all her intel she was able to gather on him said he should and set her aside for someone else. “I'm willing to take a look at it. Maybe a trip to your kennels tomorrow? Get to meet the animals and see how much damage has been done? It would give me an idea at what I'd be getting into.”

“Easily arranged. We can go in the morning. The kennels are kept out by the stables.”

“Stables?” She thought about that for a moment. “Okay, if I do take the job, and I haven't yet said that I will, I want one of the perks to be unlimited access to the stables. I haven't ridden a horse in ages.”

He grinned. “All you ever had to do was ask.” He sipped at his wine, his eyes roaming over her with a pleased languor that, to her, was more disturbing than the raw hunger he used to display. “Are you as good with horses as you are with dogs?”

“I'm good with animals in general. They're easier to get along with than people.”

“More obedient?”

“More intelligent.”

“Ouch.” He said it with a chuckle, then nodded. “I know more than a few where that definitely holds true.”

“So it's a trip to the kennels in the morning. I'll meet you back here after I've taken Cuchulain for his walk and gotten a bath in and a change of clothes? Shouldn't be any later than nine in the morning.”

Monroe toyed with the rim of his glass. “I've been thinking about that as well.”

“About what?”

“About you facing the unnecessary expense of keeping a room at the hotel. There's no reason why you should have to.”

[Uh oh.]

Charlie went still, but recovered quickly. “How do you mean?”

“We've been together for almost a month now, and you've spent every night here with me. It's an inconvenience to you to have to go back to the hotel each morning for what I can provide here. You should end you accommodation there and move your things here.”

[Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad.]

_Calm down. Your coat is bristling._

[I told you! I told you he wasn't getting tired of you! You gave him a taste of the good stuff and now he wants more!]

_Calm. Down._ She licked her lips. “Move here, with you?”

Monroe gave a slight shrug, his expression would have been nonchalant if it weren't for the gentle heat building in his eyes at the thought of it. “Why not? We both want one another. I doubt I'm the only one who has found the current arrangement less than adequate.” He refreshed her wine. “If you were here, there would be no more hurrying back to your room at the hotel for a bath and breakfast. When there is one of those rare times when I can actually have additional time to myself, we have a better chance of spending it together. It would be more convenient for both of us.”

Her hand shook a bit as she lifted the wine glass to her lips, and she immediately scolded herself for it. She swallowed and set the glass down. “Bass, where, exactly, do you think this is going? You and me?”

She noted his shoulders tense slightly, as though he recognized his misstep. “I'm uncertain, but I do have hopes that we're going somewhere.” He reached across the space between them, taking her hand into his. “I've never met anyone like you, Charlene. I enjoy having you around, crave it even. I feel... at peace when you're with me.” He rubbed her hand gently with his thumb. “And I still know hardly anything about you. I'd appreciate the chance to learn more.”

[Abort! Abort! Get to the lifeboats!]

Charlie took a deep breath and carefully extracted her hand from his. “Bass, I've never been one to put down roots. I made it clear when all this started that I had no intentions of staying in Philadelphia.”

“I'd rather hoped I'd changed your mind about that.” The tension in his shoulders was more obvious now. “I would happily do more for you to try and convince you, but you don't exactly allow me. You keep holding back from me.”

“Because I enjoy my freedom. I like being able to make my own decisions and choices. I'm not sure I'm ready to... take that next step.”

“Charlene,” he caught her hand again, but she could tell the effort he was putting into keeping his voice steady, “I'm not asking you to give up your freedom or independence. I'm only asking that you at least give this thing between us a chance and see if it can be something more.” He offered her one of his more winning smiles. “Because I'm fairly certain it can be, if you'll just give us a try.”

[Okay, I'll move behind him and you knock him across the face with the wine bottle. We'll make a break for it.]

_No, we're not attacking the head of the Monroe Republic inside his heavily guarded house._ “Bass,” she stopped, letting out a sigh, “I need to think about this. I think it'd be better if I stayed at my room tonight.” His hand tightened on hers and she made a stopping motion with her free one. “I'll still meet you tomorrow, as promised, and I'll still give honest consideration to the job offer. I just... I need to think about the rest of it, and I can't do that objectively if I'm spending all night wrapped around you.”

He was reluctant to let her go, that was obvious, but he did eventually loosen his grip on her hand. “Of course. I understand.” He didn't look happy about it. “Tomorrow morning at nine, then?”

Charlie nodded. “At nine. I'll meet you here.” She moved to get up, Bass rising at the same time. He escorted her and Cuchulain thru the building, draping her scarlet riding cloak over her shoulders. She did kiss him before leaving, perhaps allowing more than she should when he deepened it, but her response did seem to let some of the tension out of his shoulders. Perhaps it gave him hope that she was already leaning in favor of the idea. 

They made their way across the park, Charlie slipping off her shoes to make contact with the grass as was her custom.

[What are we going to do?]

_Not sure. But I am going to take this chance to go see my mother again. Better take care of any business you need doing. You'll be standing guard for me._

[Got it.]

The hotel staff was surprised to see her back so soon, but they said nothing. She and Cuchulain went back to her room where she changed out of her 'date' dress and into something more useful. Celtic style clothing; easy to move in and, in the words of her teacher “easily removed if you want a quickie”. When they exited the hotel, they took the back door exit down the hall from her rooms. 

[So what's the plan?]

_Camouflage for the both of us._ She answered even as she made the bindings in her mind to bend light around them both. In the dark they would look like nothing more than insubstantial shadows. Cuchulain gave a shake of his body, a response to the slight tickling sensation the binding caused. _I'll need to scale the outside of the building to her window. Your job is to sit watch below and let me know if anything seems suspicious._

[Other than the invisible Druid climbing the wall?]

_Exactly._

[Got it.] The shadow that was Cuchulain took up a position at the base of the wall as Charlie examined the exterior of Independence Hall. It was mostly red brick, which was made primarily by mixing clay and water along with whatever additives the factory at the time used. Plenty of natural materials she could use for this. Shoes off she began the careful climb up to the floor where her mother's room was. She didn't bind herself to the bricks until she reached the window and needed to anchor herself while she studied the sealed casement. The window latch had been nailed in the locked position, but that was easily dealt with.

** Independence Hall – Rachel's Room **

She had trouble sleeping. She always did. It was worse now, knowing that Monroe had Danny and, though he didn't know it himself, he had Charlie. Danny's asthma could cause him problems, especially under stress. And Charlie... knowing what Charlie was doing to position herself so she could get her brother back terrified her. 

There was a sound at the window. Rachel looked up, expecting to see a smudge where some bird or bat had flown into the glass. Instead, she saw the nail that held the latch to the locked position start working its way out until it fell onto the floor with a plink. Next the latch opened, a soft squeal of protest from how long it had been unused. That done, the window opened, seemingly by itself.

Rachel had come to a standing position without thought. Something that looked like a blur of shadow crawled through the window then closed it shut before darting towards the hearth. Rachel swallowed, not knowing what to do, then covered her mouth to stifle her yelp as the shadow turned into Charlotte.

“It's just me.”

“Charlie?” Rachel kept her voice at a whisper, mindful that there was always a guard at her door. “How... how did you do that?”

Charlie seemed to mull that question over for a moment, then shrugged. “Might as well just dive right in. Mom, I'm a Druid.”

Rachel frowned, not quite comprehending. “Excuse me?”

“A Druid” Charlie moved forward, motioning for her mother to sit down on the sofa before the hearth next to her so they could keep their conversation quiet. “The real kind, not the Victorian revival stuff. Servant of the Earth, Bard, Warrior, the same as the ones that existed before Christianity and before the Romans and Church nearly wiped them out of existence.”

“I... don't understand.”

Charlotte smiled. “Okay, bear with me here, because this may come as something of a shock. Magic is real. So are most of the monsters and just about all of the gods. And a lot of what monsters and gods can do is linked to how much belief the human race has in them. The sudden drop in population isn't doing them any favors.”

Rachel looked at her daughter, suddenly worried about her sanity. “Magic?”

“Mom, you just watched me make your window unlock and open from the outside and slide in here using what is pretty close to invisibility. It may be time to consider the whole 'There are more things in heaven and earth' line.”

She had a point. Rachel's eyes had seen that. Her eyes roamed over her daughter. Her arms were bare and she reached out to touch the intricate tattoos on her right bicep. “Are these part of it?”

“Yes. The bindings. You don't get them until you've finished your training. Usually twelve years for most initiates, but apparently I got brains from both you and Dad. I finished in eight.”

Rachel smiled at that. “What kind of training?”

“Scholastics to begin with. I had to learn Latin and Old Irish. Memorize the complete works of William Shakespeare. There was chemistry involved, a new addition used mainly to help me better understand why certain plant combinations work better than others. Lots of combat training in multiple styles. A lot of studying Knot Work so that I can understand the bindings that connect all things. It was a lot of hard work.”

“You know how to speak Latin?”

“And Old Irish, and Spanish, Italian, French and Russian.”

Rachel smiled. “That's quite impressive. Especially given how little opportunity you would have to learn after the Blackout.”

“I had a good teacher.” Charlie had her legs up and crossed on the sofa. “Mom, I need to know exactly what I'm getting into here. I need to know why Monroe has Danny. The only possible explanation is that he's leverage against you.”

Rachel closed her eyes, old guilt and pain coming back. “Because your father and I worked on the team that created the technology responsible for the Blackout.”

It was Charlie's turn to be shocked. “What?”

“That wasn't its original purpose. We were trying to develop a new way to get cheap, green energy. Only, the technology we built had the opposite effect. We were about to go bankrupt, so we sold it to the Department of Defense. They weaponized it. We asked for more time, for more tests on the containment protocols, but they declined and went forward. Catastrophic failure. They didn't just put out the lights for the terrorist camp they had targeted, they put them out for everyone.”

Charlie sat back against the arm of the sofa. “That's... wow. But what does that have to do with Danny?”

“Monroe wants me to turn on the lights. Just for him.”

Charlie frowned. “Can you do that?”

“With the right equipment, yes. But I haven't told Monroe that. All the years of interrogations and torture, and I've continued to deny all knowledge.”

“So he sent his goons after Dad, and when they accidentally killed him they took Danny instead. He's going to threaten Danny to try and break you.”

Rachel's eyes were starting to tear. “Exactly.” She reached out and took Charlie's hand. “Promise me something. If things go wrong, and you can only grab one of us, take Danny.”

“Mom, I'm taking both of you.”

“If you can't, promise me. I've outlasted Monroe this long, I can keep doing so, but only if he doesn't have Danny or you. If you can only take one of us, you grab Danny and run.”

Charlie looked at her mother's eyes, studying the woman there. “All right. If I can't get you both, I'll at least take Danny.”

Rachel pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.” They stayed that way for a while before separating. “So, a Druid.”

“And all the mystery and secrecy that comes with it.” Charlie nodded her head back towards the windows. “How often do they check to make sure those are still secured?”

“I haven't seen them do so since they nailed them shut.”

“All right, then. We'll leave that one unfastened, then, just in case you need to make a quick bolt for it. I should be going before someone decides to check on you.”

Rachel nodded. “Of course.” She watched her daughter turn into shadows again and watched as the blur crossed to the window and opened it. The blur slipped back outside and closed the window. Rachel went over to it and turned the latch before bending down to reclaim the nail from the floor. She hid it under the sofa cushions to lessen the chance that someone might notice that her prison had been given a door.

** Independence Hall – Following Morning – 8:30 am **

Bass was going over some recent intelligence gathered by his spies, making note of some new possible rebel bases that they would need to see to. He wasn't expecting the knock at the office door or who walked through when it opened.

“Charlie?” He checked the clock on the other side of the room.

“Yeah, I'm a bit early. Checking out didn't take as long as I thought it would.” She was dressed in loose trousers and a tunic with her scarlet cloak over her shoulders. Bass noted the two swords at her waist and the travel worn pack slung over her shoulder with a bow and quiver and an ornate fighting staff fastened to it She looked quite a bit different from the way she dressed for their dinners together. 

She shrugged. “The hotel is going to deliver all the girly-girl stuff later. So... where do I put my stuff?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title is because of Charlie's inner child getting a kick out of wearing a scarlet riding cloak when one of her animals is a wolf, but it's also b/c I hear the song "Li'l Red Riding Hood" in my head a lot when I'm writing her. Originally by Sham the Sham and the Pharaohs bit I'm hearing the version recorded by Amanda Seyfried.
> 
> Hey there little red riding hood  
> You sure are looking good  
> You're everything a big bad wolf could want
> 
> Little red riding hood  
> I don't think little big girls should  
> Go walking in these spooky old woods alone
> 
> What big eyes you have  
> The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad  
> Just to see that you don't get chased  
> I think I oughta walk with you for a ways
> 
> What full lips you have  
> They're sure to lure someone bad  
> So until you get to Grandma's place  
> I think you oughta walk with me and be safe
> 
> Gonna keep my sheep suit on  
> 'Til I'm sure that you've been shown  
> That I can be trusted walking with you alone

Charlie dropped her pack and weapons in a corner of Monroe's room to wait until a second dresser could be brought in for her use. That was the easy part. The hard part was reminding the General that they had a scheduled appointment to keep. Apparently she had made him extremely happy by agreeing to take him up on his offer. After putting her foot down firmly, and a few heated kisses, she finally got it into his head that he had presidential-type-duties to see to. 

He walked with her to the kennels, the cadre of armed men around them so second-nature to him that he didn't seem to notice they were even there. “Do you know how to use those swords of yours?”

“I do, otherwise the blacksmith who made them for me never would have given them to me. He wouldn't waste them on a novice.”

“Anyone I would have heard of?”

“Doubtful. He's a friend of the family and doesn't advertise his skills. He's more of an artisan than a weapon smith. Brews a mean ale and mead, too.”

Bass laughed. He was in an exceedingly happy mood. Who knew the guy was so easily pacified? “Well, then, maybe you could be my new sparring partner. I could stand to shake things up a bit. I know all the moves my men know. Maybe you'll bring something new to the table.”

Charlie smirked. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“A bit of friendly advice.”

They continued their verbal sparring until they reached the stables. The kennels were just behind them. Bass had made certain that the entirety of their canine troops were present for this. There were twenty-four of them in all, and all came to attention as he and Charlie came into view. 

Charlie paid no attention to the men, however, her eyes were for the dogs in the kennels. Cuchulain stayed at her side as she approached them. They growled and snarled at her until she finished the bindings that connected her to their minds. They couldn't understand her like Cuchulain did, they hadn't been taught the English language. Their minds were more like speaking to an elemental, mostly emotions and vague pictures.

These dogs also had not been loved and cherished like her hound. They knew pain and fear. They knew they had to obey the men or there would be pain. She could see their scars and she could feel how her gentle, loving thoughts sent their way was like a balm to their hearts. The growing and snarls stopped as they all lay down onto their bellies, tails wagging and eyes hopeful.

Charlie swallowed. “Bass?” Her voice wasn't loud, but he came to her side quickly enough as she rose from her crouch before the pens. “How much authority would I have?”

Her voice was tight with anger. Bass had been around her enough by now to notice it. He looked at her face in profile, her eyes still on the dogs inside the pens. “Full autonomy. You'd be working under my direct authority so essentially your word would be my word. Regarding this specific job, of course.”

She swallowed again before turning her head to look at him. “I accept.” He smiled in response as she turned away to face the soldiers. “Which one of you is paired with this dog?” She pointed to a specific animal, what looked to be primarily a German Shepard with a muzzle that was heavily scarred. 

One of the soldiers stepped forward. “I am, Miss...?” He faltered. She hadn't been introduced to them.

“This is Miss Charlene O'Sullivan. She's something of an expert with training dogs and has graciously accepted my invitation to take over the canine program.”

Charlie was looking at the soldier who had stepped forward. “The lash you've been using on him. Give it to me.” She held out her hand, her gaze icy. The soldier pulled out a leather whip that ended in about ten strips of rawhide, each strip with several knots worked into it that were meant to bruise and cut if used with enough force. It explained the scarring.

“You use this on your dog?”

“To get him to mind, yes Miss.”

“I see.” She tapped into her reserves, the shoes on her feet preventing her from direct contact with the earth, and augmented her speed and strength just long enough to lash the whip across the man's face, laying open several furrows in his cheek. Reflex made him try to strike back, but she was quicker. She ducked his punch and instead used both of her hands to wrap the lash around his wrist, using that and a well placed kick to send him to the ground, face first. Once there, she pulled on the lash, one foot planted on his upper back. He screamed as his shoulder gave a sickening pop.

No one else moved. Monroe said nothing, his silence giving approval to her action.

“Now,” Charlie said, leaning over the man still under her foot, “I don't know what idiot taught you how to train a dog, but you're going to forget everything he ever told you. You haven't trained useable canines, you've created your own worst enemies. Those animals are just waiting for the moment you show weakness to attack and rip out your throats.” 

She let his arm go and it fell limply to the ground as she got off of him. “You are to collect all the lashes from the men and burn them. As for the lot of you, tomorrow we start with trying to repair the damage you've done to your human-canine relationships. Report here at the same time tomorrow with at least a pound of jerky. Don't eat it, it's for the dogs. And if I ever catch any of you mistreating one of these animals again, I'm going to teach you a whole new definition of the word 'bitch'.”

She turned her back to them and walked back to where Monroe was standing. She was still fuming. When she got to his side her voice was almost a growl. “Were you talking smack about the sparring partner?”

“No, I was completely serious.”

“Good. I have some anger issues I need to work out.”

** Liberty Hall **

Bass wasn't certain what to make of Charlie. He had only seen her dressed up for an evening with him, though he knew that she likely wasn't using a bow or wielding a sword in those dresses she put on for dinner. He had examined her as she was looking over the dogs and he liked her 'regular' clothing. It was like some modified martial arts uniform, made for ease of movement.

He really hadn't expected her to take after Sergeant Howell that way. Laying his cheek open was shocking enough, but the speed and efficiency she had used to take him down and pull his shoulder out of its socket had been breathtaking. She may claim she wasn't a soldier, but she was certainly a fighter.

And she fought hard. He was learning that first hand.

They were using wooden practice swords, but they were both going to sporting some impressive bruises come morning. The Militia hadn't had the benefit of an actual sword master when they'd had to start rationing ammo and moved to blades instead. The style they had eventually come up with was a brutal hack-and-slash style meant to kill the other guy quickly. Charlie could do the same, but there was a grace and skill to her movements that he suspected came from training by someone who knew what they were doing. And just when he thought he had her figured out, she'd somehow change her movements on him.

At one point he managed to get her pinned against a wall, their practice blades locked above their heads. “Where do you come from, Charlie?”

She gave a little shrug. “From Heaven.” He wasn't expecting the knee to his upper thigh, throwing him off balance before she liberated her swords from his and gave him a series of sharp whacks to the torso and sides that sent him off balance. “Or Hell, I never really figured it out myself.”

The combination of the blows to his torso and the fall winded him momentarily. Bass blinked the sweat from his eyes, smiling in spite of the discomfort. He saw the bare feet coming a little closer, catching a glimpse of the intricate tattoo on the right heel. “Aww.... did'ims fall down, go boom?”

His smile turned to a grin as he shot out with one hand and gripped her ankle, giving her a yank hard enough to send her onto her back. She knew how to fall, and she was already starting to come to a sitting position, one sword at the ready, when he had managed to crawl up to cover her. He gripped her wrists in his hands and used his greater upper body weight and strength to push her back to the mat.

Their eyes locked, both of them enjoying the game. Bass' goal was to pin her wrists back to the mat, thus finally winning the match. Both of them were smiling like idiots. Charlie was putting everything into pushing back, which made her breasts firm up interestingly under her tunic. He continued to apply pressure to the arms, inching them slowly further apart and closer to the floor. The muscles in his arms were burning, so he knew she had to be feeling it, until the muscles in her arms gave out and her wrists slapped to the mat and she let go of the swords.

She laughed, actually laughed, at her defeat. Bass lowered his head and captured those laughing lips with his own, kissing her deeply. He heard her laugh turn into a purr and felt her arms come up so that she could thread her fingers into his sweat soaked curls. 

Bass growled, his hands tracing over her face, her neck, down her torso until he could slide his hands under the edge of her tunic and slide them up and over the soft skin of her stomach and ribs. She shivered under his touch and he smiled into their kiss. He couldn't have this if she was still living at the hotel, only giving him dinners and passionate nights. He wanted to know her, to peel her layers back and find the heart of her. He knew she was passionate, but he had wanted to see the fierceness in her, taste it and imprint it onto his skin and into his memory. It was like she was a sculpture made from fire and he wanted her warmth with him always.

He'd shucked his shirt some time ago when it had become soaked with enough sweat that it was actually a bother. Now he felt Charlie's hands moving down his back until they found the waistband of his pants. She traced the fabric around until she reached the fly and began to work at it to get his pants open. An excellent idea, and he started moving his own hands down to help her with her own pants.

Someone gave a firm, throat clearing sound, then Jeremy's voice made its way to his ears. “Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but I have a report you probably need to hear.”

Bass stopped, something very much like anger filling him. Charlie's hands had left his pants quickly, coming up to cover her mouth. It took him a second too realize she was laughing. “What?”

“You should see your face right now.” After that she stopped holding it back, letting her laugh go like a waterfall. “Let me up.” He didn't budge so she punched his shoulder. “Up!”

He did so, with silent objection, rolling to one side. She got up on her own with one move, clearly showing off. He got to his feet, watching her walk over to Jeremy, hand extended. “Hi, I'm Charlie.”

Jeremy gave him a curious look before accepting the hand. “Captain Jeremy Baker, Miss. A pleasure.”

“Jeremy, you cock blocking son-of-a-bitch, this had better be good.” Charlie tried to smother another laugh.

“Tell you what,” she turned to face him, hands together in a double-barrel gun configuration, “why don't I let you get back to the very important business of running the Republic? The rest of my stuff should be here by now. I'll go unpack and get a hot bath while you boys play soldier.”

She was grinning as she turned away from them and walked off. Both men watched her until she was out of sight. 

“Very different from your usual, Sir.”

“That woman is different from any other you've ever met.” Bass grabbed a towel to dry off as he and Jeremy went to his office. “Drink?”

Baker nodded. “Yes, Sir.” He looked over towards the hearth, attention drawn there by the motion of a massive dog stretching lazily, brown eyes looking his way. “Nice dog.”

Bass was pouring the drinks, the towel now slung over his shoulders. “That's Cuchulain. He belongs to Charlie.” He replaced the stopper of the decanter. “Cuchulain, say hello to Jeremy.” The massive dog got up from his place by the hearth and padded over to the officer, tail wagging happily. He sat down and offered a large paw. 

Jeremy gave a chuff of laughter and shook the offered paw. “Nice to meet you, Cuchulain. Does she walk him or does she ride him?” He accepted the whiskey from Bass.

“Good question.” The president went to his desk where there was a covered dish. Lifting the lid he uncovered what looked like plump sausage links. Cuchulain abandoned Jeremy in a flash and accepted one of the treats from the man. “I like him. He's smart and loyal. And, honestly, would you try anything with a woman who had this beast walking by her side?”

“Not without pre-blackout body armor.”

Bass put the cover back on the dish after giving the dog a second treat. “So, Jeremy, tell me why I'm not killing you for interrupting.”

“Miles Matheson.”

Bass paused, looking at Jeremy. “You found him?”

“Had him, for a while anyway. He was with a rebel group I'd tracked down. Though they didn't know he was with them.”

Something like pain mixed with denial went through Bass. “Miles is with the rebels?”

“Maybe, like I said, they didn't know it was him. Hell, I didn't believe it was him at first.” Jeremy swallowed another mouthful of whiskey. “He looks good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he looks too good. The man looks younger now than the day you two saved my life. I thought maybe I was looking at a kid of his, or a younger doppelganger, but it was him. Would have sworn the man was in his mid-twenties, no more than thirty.” He shook his head. “Moved like it, too. All of Miles' skill and experience with the speed and dexterity of a much younger man. I tell ya, scared the hell out of me.”

“But you said you had him.”

Jeremy nodded. “I did. He had captured me and had me cut off from my men. Once I informed him that the rules had changed about negotiating for a captured CO, he offered to surrender if I let the rest of the rebels leave alive. I know how much you want him, so I took the deal. Had him secured and was headed back here, but one of the rebels managed to get in front of us and blew up the damn bridge we were crossing to give him a chance to get away.”

Bass gave a chuff, his mouth tilted in a half smile. “Blew up the bridge. A woman? Latin?”

“Didn't see the bomber, but there was someone like that at the rebel base. Apparently she was the one who brought Miles in. The others weren't happy about it.”

“Nora Clayton. She's got a knack for blowing things up.” Bass shook his head. “Miles and Nora, back together. That's going to make things interesting.” He took a drink from his glass. “And my old friend apparently has found the Fountain of Youth. Or at least he's been weathering the black better than most. Wonder where he's been hiding all this time.”

“You want me to go out and try to pick up his trail again?”

“Yes, but in a few days. You and your men have been gone too long. Take some down time. Get some rest. Get laid. It'll do you wonders.”

Jeremy smiled at that, his eyes studying Bass. Monroe noticed. “What?”

“You look, happy, Sir. Relaxed. It's good to see you like this again. Guess Charlie's doing you some good.”

“Shhh,” Bass said with a finger to his lips. “Don't let her hear you say that. She's skittish about commitment. I just barely convinced her to move in with me. People start talking about domesticity and how good we are for one another and she might try to bolt.”

“Won't say word. You thinking about trying to reel this one in for good?”

Bass petted the massive Wolf Hound's head as it rested on his thigh. “Wouldn't mind it. She certainly makes things seem to make more sense.” He set his glass down and motioned for the dog to go back to his spot by the hearth. “If that will be all, Captain, Charlie isn't the only one needing a bath.”

“Enjoy, Sir.”

** Liberty Hall – Monroe's Personal Suite **

It didn't take long to put her things away. A second dresser had been brought in for her and the closet had plenty of space for her dresses along side of Monroe's uniforms. By the time she had everything tucked away, the staff had her bath filled. She surrendered her sweaty tunic and breeches for cleaning before slipping into the bath. Her mind was going over what Cuchulain relayed to her from the conversation downstairs. 

[So do you think Miles has joined the resistance?]

_Don't know, but if that's how he's decided to use his second chance it's not a bad one. He knows the Militia inside and out, he built it. If he can take that expertise and his skill set and apply it to the resistance, he could possibly do a lot too try and mitigate the damage the Militia does._

[Good idea. And it sounds like he drank that smelly tea. You should have seen that Baker guy's face. He was spooked.]

Charlie smiled as she leaned back in the hot water. _I don't doubt that he was. Wish I could have seen his face when he realized who he was fighting._

[Oh, that would have been good right there.]

The door to the suite opened. Charlie turned her head slightly so she could keep the door to the bath in sight. Bass came through, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. “I told the staff to have our dinner delivered here when it's ready. Thought we'd celebrate your new job with some alone time.”

Dinner was still a few hours away. “Alone time? That sounds like a fine idea.”

Bass poured the wine into each glass before giving them to her to hold. He set the bottle by the tub before shucking out of his trousers. “Move up.” She did and he climbed into the hot water behind her, pulling her back to rest against his chest once he was situated and taking one of the glasses.

“Did you kill Jeremy?”

“No. He's too good a friend.”

“Oh, thank goodness for that. You really did look murderous.”

“My looking murderous makes you laugh?”

She giggled. “No, the situation made me laugh. You really should have seen the look on your face.”

“Hush,” he said as he smiled. He reached up with his free hand and tilted her chin so that he could kiss her. It was a more gentle and languid kiss than the one after their sparring match. She could almost taste the emotion behind it and told herself not to let her worry show. “Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For taking me up on my offer.” He nuzzled her neck, planting a soft kiss there. “For coming to stay with me, so we can more moments like this. For giving us this chance.” He trailed his fingers down between her breasts and under the water over the skin there. 

All the while Charlie told herself to keep calm and not let her urge to run show.


	6. Chapter 6

** Philadelphia – five days later **

Charlie had slipped out of bed without waking Bass and had gotten to the stables with her bow and arrows in hand and Cuchulain trotting happily at her side. She had a good three hours before her session with the canine soldiers started, and she was wanting to take advantage of the targets she had been putting up on bales of hay over the past few days.

She kicked off her shoes just outside the stall of a beautiful bay mare with a white star on her forehead. She unlatched the stall as she bound her mind to that of the mare. She was sweet tempered and eager to get out. Being of a more delicate build she was kept for riders, not for pulling wagons or carriages. 

[Do you even know how to still do this? It's been a while.]

 _I might be a bit rusty at first, but I think I'll get back in the swing of things shortly enough._ She grinned as the mare and Cuchulain nuzzled one another in greeting. She put a hand on the mare's neck and walked her out of the stall and into the paddock. She had spent a little time in the stables each morning getting to know the different horses, and she liked this one the best. Her name was Starlight, likely named by one of the more fanciful stable boys or a stable master's daughter. 

She didn't bother with saddle or bridle. There was no need when you could tell the horse what you wanted. Slinging her quiver on her back she used a mounting block to swing up onto Starlight's back. It had been too long since she had ridden a horse. She had hoped that her behooved herbivore form would be a horse, but she got the doe instead. Quick and graceful, but also a prime target for hunters.

They started out by walking out of the paddock into a cleared field before she asked Starlight to pick up the pace. She let the horse gallop as she wanted, practically dancing with happiness to be out of the stables again. Once the mare had worked out her playfulness, Charlie got down to business.

She had been taking bales of hay that had not been used over the last winter and had too much mold and spoilage to be safe for the horses and moving them to different locations, stacking them into different heights, and fastening targets to them. She even had a couple she fastened into the Y's of trees to give her a little more of a challenge. 

She guided Starlight towards the start of the run she had set up, pulling an arrow from her quiver and notching it onto the bow. Cuchulain was running along side, ready to lend his helpful commentary.

She let the first arrow fly. [Ha! You got onto the target, but no where near the bulls eye Told you you'd be rusty.]

The second target was considerably shorter than the first. She let her arrow fly. [Closer! Still no bulls eye but closer.]

The third was up in one of the trees. The third arrow flew. [You hit it! Just barely, but you got the center!] 

The rest of the run was with more praise. She ran through all twelve targets, then had Starlight run back to the start and ran through it again. Happy with her results she patted the mare's neck as Cuchulain started retrieving the arrows he could reach. [You were right, you did get back in the swing quickly.] 

She bent down to accept the somewhat drooly arrows. _And you doubted me._ She stretched up from Starlight's back to get the ones that were higher up and put them back into the quiver. 

[Hey, while you were practicing, I picked up something interesting. I think it was pheasants! Hiding over there in the brush.]

_Rare find in this area. Think you can flush them out if they're still there?_

[Oh, you betcha! This way!]

She told Starlight to move while Cuchulain shot off towards the brush. He barked with enthusiasm, sending a group of seven pheasants scattering and taking off into the air. Charlie made three shots, aiming only for the ones she knew she could bring down, and three feathered bodies fell to the ground.

[That was awesome!]

Charlie laughed, shifting her weight as needed while the mare danced under her. “Fetch them here.” She watched as her hound went and grabbed the arrow of the first pheasant and carried it back to her. He did the same with the other two and Charlie tied the arrows into the belt of her tunic. “That's enough for today. I need to wipe this girl down and make sure she gets some oats.”

They made their way to the stables. She recognized Strausser before she was close enough to see his face clearly. There was a vileness to the man that was detectable from a distance. As they got closer the man started to clap, a little half smile on his face. 

“Impressive, Miss O'Sullivan. Not many bother to learn archery to the point of accuracy on horseback. Who taught you?”

“Family.” It was true, in a sense. She considered Atticus and Granuaille her family, and she was using their name. As Starlight reached the stables she threw her other leg over so she could slide off, landing her bare feet against the soft earth. “Something I can do for you?”

“No, but there's something I can do for you.” She looked at him, one brow arched. “I need to give a report to President Monroe. I can take those pheasants to Liberty Hall for you. I dare say he'll enjoy the treat for dinner this evening.” 

She had no reason to refuse the offer, no matter how much the man made her skin crawl. She untied the arrowed birds from her belt and handed them to Strausser. “Thank you.”

“No trouble. I can take your bow and arrows back as well, if you like.”

“No need. I carried them down. I can carry them back.”

“Of course.” He watched her as she lead the mare into her stall with nothing but a hand on her neck. “You have an excellent way with horses, it seems.”

“Starlight's a sweetheart. She's easy to handle.” She grabbed a towel and started wiping the mare down, trying to ignore Strausser.

“Still, to be able to ride her like that without even so much as a bridle. That's skill.”

She was going to respond, reminding herself to be polite, but the scents of horse sweat, stale straw and Strausser's aftershave all mingled and assaulted her all at once. Her stomach twisted and rolled, and she ran out of the stall to the paddock outside the stables just in time before her breakfast came up. She continued to retch until only bile came up. Finally it stopped, nothing remaining but the hammering of her heart.

“Are you all right, Miss O'Sullivan?” Strausser's hand came to rest on her shoulder and she jerked away on instinct, backing away from him. 

“I'm fine.” She swallow, her throat burning. “Too much jostling too soon after a full stomach. Rookie mistake.” He needed to go away. She needed him to go away. Cuchulain came up to her, putting his massive head under her hand. That helped, grounding her. “No need for worry.”

Strausser didn't look like he was buying it. “Are you certain? I can have one of the stable hands tell your men they're dismissed for the day if you want to go back to the house.”

“Like I said; rookie mistake.”

“Hmmm. At least let the stable hands see to your horse. Take some time to get some water and let your stomach settle. And perhaps you should go ahead and let me take your bow and quiver.” She glared at him. She hated being treated like she was fragile, and Strausser apparently picked up on that. “I'm not insinuating you're weak, I've seen enough to know otherwise. However, everyone who is in Monroe's inner circle knows how much you mean to him. It would be expected of me to do all that I can for you.”

She was still glaring as she unslung the quiver from her back and handed him that that the bow. “I suppose you'll be telling him about this when you see him, then.”

“As I said, it would be expected of me.”

Bastard. “If he comes down here interrupting my class over this, I'm going to crack your skull wide open.”

Strausser smiled. “I believe you would. You're a lot like me; you wear your civility very thinly.”

“I'm nothing like you. You have the earmarks of a sadist. I kill for a purpose, not pleasure.”

His smile grew wider. “Tell yourself whatever makes you feel better.” He ordered one of the stable boys to finish wiping down Starlight. “Get some water, Miss O'Sullivan, take some dry rations out of the stable master's office to settle your stomach. Don't forget your shoes.” He turned away and walked off, carrying her bow and the pheasants.

[Charlie? What's wrong?]

 _Give me a minute, Sweetie._ She closed her eyes, and focused her magic inwards, looking for signs of illness. She shouldn't have to worry about such things, the triskele on her hand was a healing mark and usually neutralized any problems, so what she did find didn't surprise her. “Fuck.”

[What is it?]

 _You were right. I need to make a call._ She reached down into the earth, touching the elemental here that was now a familiar friend to her. //Druid greets Fairmount/Harmony//.

//Fairmount greets Druid/Harmony// followed almost immediately by //Joy!/ ELATION!// Trust an elemental to zoom right in on her two little bundles of chaos.

//Druid asks favor?//

//Anything!//

She formed her request and Fairmount agreed to see to it immediately. Charlie thanked her and pulled out of the communication. With a sigh she crouched down and hugged Cuchulain around his neck, burying her cheek into his coat. 

[What is it? What was I right about?]

_About the booster. The son-of-bitch knocked me up._

** Liberty Hall **

Bass didn't interrupt her lesson, so Strausser must have told him everything. Charlie felt a little thread a uncertainty when she got back to Liberty Hall. She was hungry, tired, bitchy and smelled like horses and dogs. And Cuchulain's constant worrying wasn't helping matters any.

_Honey, I honestly don't know what I'm going to do. The best we can try is to keep Monroe in the dark and hope Danny gets here before he puts two and two together and realizes that he's going to be a daddy. If I thought I had any luck left, I'd say we could hope that he doesn't like children enough to think about it, but he hasn't behaved anything like he's supposed to so far._

[We should have just gone after Danny first.]

_Hindsight is always 20/20. And if we had, we wouldn't have learned that my mother was still alive._

[There is that.]

She made her way through the kitchen door, the cook had eventually stopped glaring at Cuchulain's presence and she was hungry. She stopped to cut a slice off from a loaf of bread, helping herself without asking. The cook had stopped complaining about that sort of thing, too.

“Oh, Miss Sullivan,” or maybe not, “I received those pheasants you brought down. Lovely birds. I'll be using them for something special tomorrow night.”

“You're waiting?”

The cook, a plump man who was probably the only member of the Monroe Militia allowed to be so, raised his brows. “Of course. President Monroe advised that he had matters to attend to that would keep him away from the house tonight. It is just you and Cuchulain for this evening. I was planning a nice braised rabbit for the pair of you. I didn't have enough for three so this is an opportune moment to do something with them besides make a stew.”

“Sounds delicious.” Maybe she'd get out of a scene after all. “I'll scrubbed and ready at seven sharp.” She turned to leave and paused. “Oh, I'd like peppermint tea with my dinner tonight. Hot. And... do you have a steady source for milk?”

Cook looked a little surprised at this inquiry. “Of course.”

“Good. I think I've been a little lacking on the calcium department. It's a girl thing. I'd like to start having the hot tea with my breakfast and milk with my other meals, if it's not a bother.”

“None at all. I'll make sure all the staff is alerted to the change.”

“Thanks. Come, Cuchulain.” They walked out of the kitchens into the hallway down towards Monroe's office. She could hear his voice drifting from the door.

“She shouldn't be much longer. It isn't that far of a walk from the kennels to the house.”

[Wonder who he's talking to.]

 _Probably someone who's going to piss me off._ Charlie smiled at the guard at the door as he opened the door for her. Cuchulain trotted in ahead of her, his nose going straight to the covered dish the President of the Republic had started keeping on his desk, tail wagging. “Stop trying to steal my dog.”

Bass scratched Cuchulain between his ears before snagging a couple of the sausages and tossing them to him. “I'm not trying to steal him. I'm just making sure he keeps liking me so he doesn't try to drag you off.”

“Uh huh.” She delivered it flatly. “Cook tells me I'm flying solo tonight?”

Bass came over to her, his hands coming up to rub her arms as he leaned in for a polite kiss that wouldn't scandalize the other person in the room. “Can't be avoided. Something's come up that I have to attend to personally. I'll probably be out until early morning, so you shouldn't wait up for me.”

“Okay. Apparently that means I get braised rabbit tonight and I might finally get some sleep without you snoring in my ear.” She tore off another bite of bread and popped it into her mouth, smiling as she chewed.

“Oh! You want to talk about snoring? You've been quite loud the past few nights yourself.”

She arched an unamused brow at him and looked at who else was in the room. She noted the medical bag that the man carried. “Feeling under the weather?”

Bass leveled an equally unamused look at her. “No. I'm fine.”

“Ah. Strausser tattled.”

“Yes, he did. Including the part where you said you'd crack his skull open if I interrupted your class today.”

“Well, he at least gives thorough reports. Good to see the man has at least one redeeming quality.”

“I am aware of your dislike for Sergeant Strausser, but he is a valuable member of my staff.”

“He's a monster and a sadist and I'd like to see his head on a pike.” She chewed another piece of bread as she made her way over to the physician. “I don't think we've been properly introduced. Charlie O'Sullivan.” 

The doctor accepted her hand and shook it warmly, though it was clear he could pick up on the tension between her and Monroe. “Dr. Greenwich. A pleasure, Miss. I serve as President Monroe's personal physician. He asked me to come over to see you.”

“Yes, I'm sure. Tell me, Doctor, professionally speaking, would one bout of vomiting without fever or any other symptoms usually constitute a visit from you? Especially when you consider that the person who did the vomiting had eaten a full breakfast and then got onto a horse that she rode at a vigorous speed for... quite a length of time?”

“Ah.” The doctor gave a slight nod. “I see. You do not feel that you require an examination.”

“No, I do not.”

Bass sighed. “Charlene, please.”

“No,” she said, looking over at him. “Bass, I'm not one of these delicate little china dolls you've got in this city that your higher officers use as trophy wives. I'm as tough, if not tougher, than most of your men.” She stopped and took a breath. When she spoke again she was using a softer voice. “I appreciate the concern, I really do. But you're overreacting. I pushed myself too hard and I paid the price for it. I'm fine.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but she gave him her best I'm-not-budging look. Eventually he drew in a breath and capitulated. “All right. I may have jumped the gun on this one.” He straightened up. “Sorry to drag you down here for nothing, Doctor.”

“Not a problem, Sir. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss O'Sullivan. May you never have need of my services.”

“If I ever do, I'll keep you in mind.” She shook his hand again smiled warmly as he left the room. 

Bass spoke the moment the door was shut. “Charlie...”

“No!” She turned back around to face him. He was leaning over his desk again, his hands braced against the surface, looking at her. “You're used to people doing whatever you want, I get that. You say jump and they start hopping without even checking how high first. I know this about you. Just like I know that you're not above manipulation to get your way.”

“Charlie, I've never manipulated you.”

She laughed at that. “Really? You knew I was fond of animals. You knew that if you could get me to the kennels so I could see how those animals were being treated, I'd take that job. And I did, even though I saw it for what it was; a thinly veiled premise to encourage me to stay in town.” He looked a bit stunned that she had figured it out. She laughed again. 

“I'm not mad about that. You want this, whatever this is between you and me, you want to see if it will grow into something. I get that. And I'm making compromises. I have never stayed in a city this long. I'm used to fields and forests and open skies. Not bricks and mortar and people crammed all in together like this. I moved in here with you when everything in me wanted to get out of here and get back on the road. You may have thought it was just pillow talk, but I was telling you the absolute truth when I said I was used to doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to do it.”

She took a breath, mirroring his stance form the other side of his desk. “You said you didn't want take away my freedoms, but you call a doctor over a single case of vomiting?”

“I was concerned.”

“It's smothering, Bass. I'm a big girl. I can recognize when I'm sick, probably better than your doctor. And I am not weak. I come damn close to beating you whenever we spar, and if we were using our live blades, believe me when I say I'd win. And in spite of throwing up afterward, I took down three pheasants in flight by archery from the back of a moving horse. Can any of your archers do that? I sincerely doubt it, because archery from horseback isn't something most people bother learning these days and even though you have plenty of horses for some reason it's never occurred to you to develop a cavalry. Do you know how much damage a man with a strong sword arm can do from horseback? Your guys dismount to fight. That's just idiocy.”

She stopped herself, recognizing that she was ranting and getting off the topic. “I just... if you can't trust me to make decisions about my own health and well being, then how can I believe that you aren't going to try and keep me under your thumb. That's not who I am. It's not anyone I could ever be. If you want a woman who is subservient and will hang on your every word, then tell me now. I'll go upstairs, pack my things and get out of your way so you can go find her.”

She made to move away from the desk, but Bass' hand shot out to grab her. “No!” She looked back at him, her jaw clenched and he loosened his grip. “I don't want that, Charlie. Please don't leave.” He came around the desk, his hands moving slowly to rest on her waist. “I'm sorry. You're right, I know I've been asking you to go against your nature by staying here, by trying to make decisions for you. But I'm trying, Charlie.”

She looked him in the eyes. “Are you?”

“I am. I know I don't have the right to ask another concession from you, but if you would, please just have patience with me. You're right that I'm used to having people follow my direction without question. You make me need to relearn how to listen to someone else's opinions. I haven't had to do that since Miles left.”

She frowned. “Miles?”

A bitter smile settled on Bass' face. “My best friend. My brother in all but blood.” He let go of her and stepped away, recounting this too painful. “We built this Republic together. He started it all, truth be told. I just followed along. He built the Militia, made it what it is, but he was shit when it came to people skills. That's why we decided that I should be the figurehead. He was my Commanding General. For years we were together without trouble.”

“What happened?”

“I don't know. One night I woke up to find him standing there near by bed. I thought maybe something was wrong. I was about to ask him if he was okay, but he pulled his sidearm and aimed it right at me.”

“But he didn't fire. That close, someone with that much skill, he wouldn't have missed.”

Bass gave a mirthless laugh and turned back to look at her. “No, he wouldn't have. He left. Let the room. Let the Militia. Left me. Now I have to be President and Commanding General.”

“Why not hire another general?”

“I don't have anyone who was as good as Miles.” He shook his head as though clearing cobwebs. “I'm going to be late.” He turned back to her, moving closer so he could rest his hands on her shoulders. “Tell me you'll still be here when I get back. Tell me I haven't screwed this up.”

She looked at him as though considering it. “I'll be here. And... I'll try to work on the patience thing if you promise to try and tone down the overprotective thing.”

He smiled, looking relieved. “I'll work on it.” He kissed her, gently but at length. When he released her he gave Cuchulain a good-bye pat and left them alone in the office.

[Wow. If they ever start giving out awards for acting, you should get the one for the greatest of the greatest of the greatest ever.]

_Atticus always said the best lie is sprinkled liberally with the truth. Though I was kind of hoping he'd go for the moving out idea._

[No go so far. Certainly not going to happen if he finds out about the you-know-whats.]

 _No shit_. Charlie rubbed her head and sighed. _I can't believe he actually called for a doctor over one bout of vomiting. What a fussy britches!_

[So what do we do now?]

_Now I'm going to clean up, then we're going to enjoy our lovely rabbit dinner, you'll go out to do your business and then curl up here in the office so you can warn me if Bass comes back early while I go visit my mother._

[You got more questions for her?]

Charlie sighed. _No, I just need my mother_

** Liberty Hall – Rachel's Room ** 

Rachel was fluttering in and out of sleep when she heard the window open. She sat up quickly, straining to see the blurry shadow that would be her daughter. Sure enough, as soon as the window shut again and the shadow moved out of line of sight, Charlotte became visible.

“Charlie.” She made to get up but her daughter indicated she shouldn't bother. Then Charlie moved over to the bed and climbed onto it, her arms going around her in a hug. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

“I made a mistake.”

Rachel held her daughter, lowering her nose to her hair so she could breathe in the scent of lavender and honey. “What do you mean? What mistake?”

“I should have just gone after Danny directly, not tried to be all sneaky about it. Of course, if I'd done that, I wouldn't have found out you were still alive, but so many things are going wrong. My plan is going all screwy.”

She stroked her daughter's hair, closing her eyes and regretting all the years she missed this while she was growing up. She missed so much of her little girl's life. “Did Monroe hurt you?”

Charlie laughed. “No. He pisses me off and he's refusing to behave the way he's supposed to, but he definitely hasn't hurt me.”

“What do you mean? How is not behaving correctly?”

Charlie sighed and sat up so that she was kneeling on the bed. “Everything I gathered on him while I was waiting for him to get back from the field said that Sebastian Monroe was a chronic womanizer who couldn't commit to one person if his life depended on it.”

“Well, that's the Bass I always knew. He's not acting that way now?”

“Far from it. For example, he's hired me to help fix his canine program and I'm living here now.”

Rachel found that surprising. “He moved you into Liberty Hall. Charlie, has he figured out who you are?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it. He couldn't wait to tell you that Dad was dead and that he had Danny. If he'd figured out that I'm really Charlotte Matheson, he wouldn't hesitate to rub your nose in it, especially the part that we're sleeping together.”

Rachel relaxed. She had a point there. “So he's trying to keep you close. What were you expecting to happen?”

“That he'd get bored with me. Move on to someone else. I just wanted him to have enough fond memories that he wouldn't pay too close attention to what I was doing after we split. But that's not how it's working out.”

“Instead he's trying to keep you closer.” Rachel sighed. “You're right, that's not Bass at all.”

Charlie lay back down, her head on the other pillow of the bed. “That's not the only mistake I made.”

“What else went wrong?”

She sighed. “I needed to make sure that I caught his attention. That I stood out from the other women. So I used an herbal brew, potion, elixir, whatever you want to call it. It's normally used for couples having trouble with conceiving. The woman drinks it for at least two to three months, sometimes as many as six, and it's something that has to be tapered off. Works two ways; increases her pheromone output to keep her partner interested and ready to go whenever she's around while at the same time increasing her fertility to encourage additional eggs being released.”

“And you used this... potion?”

“I calculated how much I would need for one week. Just enough to make me enticing, and it worked. I only needed his attention for a couple of weeks, then he should have gotten bored, but instead he went from out-of-control sex drive to... emotional attachment.”

“Could you have gotten something wrong with the brew? Or maybe he had an adverse reaction to it?”

“Maybe, but I don't see how that could happen. But that's not my only problem.” She swallowed. “The elixir is for people with for fertility problems. It's not meant for healthy women who probably have no problems in that area.”

Rachel caught on. “Oh, Charlie. Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.” She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing slightly as though she was thinking carefully as her hand moved down low over her abdomen. “Twins. Probably close to four weeks along. Good spacing on the uterine wall, far enough that they are definitely fraternal. Too early to tell gender, yet.” She sighed again and opened her eyes. “That there's two of them is how I know that it's from the booster. I'm lucky there are only two. I could have ended up with three or four or a dozen.”

“There are ways to take care of this.” Rachel stroked her daughter's forehead. “I can tell you what herbs you can combine to help induce a mis...”

Charlie cut her off. “Mom, I can't do that.”

“Charlie, you don't want to have that man's child.”

“I admit there could be better fathers, but I literally cannot do that.” She shook her head. “It's one thing to kill in defense of self or family, or in a straight up fight or because you need to eat. Those are all acceptable. But I cannot knowingly and willfully terminate an unborn life. Especially not one I'm carrying.”

“Charlie, this early on they're hardly babies.”

“Consider it a religious conviction, then. And that's not my only problem. I figured it out this morning, so I spoke to the elemental over this ecosystem. She knew about them the second we connected, and she was thrilled. I asked her to get a message to my teacher, which means she has to tell the next elemental over, who will tell the next one to her and so on. And they gossip like a bunch of old women. By this time tomorrow night, every ecosystem on the planet is going to know that the newest Druid is carrying new life, and that will get to Gaia herself. Spontaneous abortion or natural miscarriage, those would be accepted, but not willful termination. I would be expected to do the exact opposite and take steps to keep the pregnancy strong. That's why I need Atticus.”

“What for?”

“Supplies. There's a tea that will help strengthen the pregnancy and, most importantly for multiples, help me carry as long as possible. Give the kids a better chance to survive. However, some of the ingredients aren't easily available here. He has a better set up.”

“And if Bass figures out you're pregnant?”

“That's going to be the tricky part. I had my first bout of morning sickness today, which is what prompted me to check and see. Strausser witnessed it and ratted me out. Bass actually had a doctor waiting for me when I got home. I staged a little hissy fit about him being overprotective and he backed off, but only after making me promise I'd still be here when he got back from whatever he's doing.”

Rachel sighed and hugged her daughter. “Then you need to make sure you're taking care of yourself. That first trimester is harsh. Not just the nausea, but fatigue as well. Pregnant women need more calories, but with twins you'll need even more, so you've got to make sure you're eating. Keep something with you when you're working. There's also the possibility that with twins you might start showing earlier.”

“Yeah, I know all that. That's why I'm hoping they show up with Danny soon. Bass is not stupid. Sooner or later he's going to realize that I haven't had a cycle since we've started sleeping together and he won't hesitate to use a pregnancy as yet another way to try and keep me with him.”

“You think it may be that serious?”

“He was speaking to one of his officers the other night, a Jeremy Baker. When Baker commented that he seemed happier and that I must be good for him, Bass warned him to not mention that around me because it might send me running. He knows I'm not committed to this relationship and he's not above using manipulation to try and keep me....” She trailed off.

“What is it?”

“Damn, he's back early.”

“How do you know?”

“I left Cuchulain in his office. He just told me Bass walked in.” She got off the bed. “He'll be expecting me to at least be in bed when he gets in. I have to... bastard!”

Rachael blinked. “What?”

Charlie looked outraged. “He just sent a runner to the gates to make certain the details there are told that I don't have privileges to leave the city.”

“Making sure you don't make a run for it.”

“Yeah, so much for trying to work on the overprotective thing. Jackass.” She shook her head. “I have to go. I'll try to come back when I can.”

Rachel hurried off the bed to kiss her daughter good-bye before she turned into shadow again and slipped back out of the window.

Pregnant. Her daughter was pregnant, with twins. And Monroe was the father. Rachel laid back down onto her bed and closed her eyes, telling herself not to cry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to add some of Kevin Hearne's characters from the Iron Druid Chronicles. And, yes, the Deity does show up in the books.

** Philadelphia – Eight days later **

She'd gotten good at getting out of the house before the nausea had time to set in. Bass had questioned her sudden decision to stop drinking, but she brushed it off as just wanting to get something a bit more healthy inside her. So far he hadn't said anything about her new penchant for falling asleep in a chair while reading a book or while in the bath or grabbing a short nap before dinner. 

Perhaps it was guilt that made her keep looking inward, checking the twins and making sure they were still stable. She looked deeper, knowing that Bass' little swimmers would have determined gender, and was pretty sure she was carrying one of each. It was good, she reflected, that not all women could do this. It could easily become an obsession.

Today she was monitoring the progress of her 'men'. Eight of them had repaired enough damage to the relationships they had with their dogs that she'd had them take them home with them. Their reports back were mostly positive, even exuberant. Especially the ones who had kids. The children loved having the dogs in the house, though not always the wives. It was good for the dogs, too. 

There were about three that she thought she'd have to break up the partnership completely. Howell's animal, for example, was unlikely to ever trust him again. Or anyone. But he had been a good dog, once, and those traits were still in him. He might do better being retired and left to be put to bitches when they came into heat. She wouldn't trust Howell with another animal, the man still showed no remorse for what he had done. She had her eye on one of the stable boys, though. He was young for guard duty, but there was a litter of four pups who were just about old enough to be paired off with someone, and the boy and pup growing up together would be a good foundation.

_OBERON! ORLA!_ Her hound took off like a shot and she watched him running towards a pair of Irish Wolf Hounds running his way down a woody hill. She smiled and dismissed her class and made her way over in that direction. She didn't care if any of them watched as an insanely attractive pair of redheads came over the hill in her direction. When they met up in the middle, Charlie accepted warm hugs from both of them while the dogs were busy reacquainting themselves with one another. 

“I am so glad to see you guys.” She releases Atticus to hug Granuaile. “Soldiers and plastic wives can get so irritating after a while.”

“So,” Atticus started, “preggers, huh? How'd you manage to let that happen?” He handed over a satchel that contained the herbs she had requested.

She sighed. “Long story.”

“We've brought the makings of the world's finest bacon and tomato sandwiches if you're up for talking. Bacon from Mannanan's pigs, no less.”

“Deal.”

They sat under the shade of the trees, making sandwiches out of soft bread, crispy bacon with the celestial power to heal and tomatoes that had ripened on the vine as she told them the entire story. They were letting themselves rest, feeding the rest of the bacon to the dogs, who were very grateful.

“That,” Atticus started, “was an overly complex way to go about things.”

“I know that. Now, anyways.”

“But she did gain something by doing it this way. Now she knows her mother is alive and she can get her out, too.”

“She's lucky she's only carrying twins. At her age, that booster could have easily landed her with triplets or more. Speaking of which, here.” Atticus handed her a water skin. “I went ahead and whipped up a batch of the tea you need. You remember the steps to making it yourself?”

“Thanks.” Charlie took the skin and uncapped it, drinking deeply of the brew and swallowing before saying more. “I remember. I just didn't have access to the ingredients and being gone long enough to find them would send things around here into chaos.”

“Speaking of chaos, Oberon says someone's coming.”

Charlie groaned. “Fucking snitches.” She sighed. “That's probably him. Someone probably scuttled off to Liberty Hall to tell him I have guests. Probably Howell. He still hasn't fully forgiven me for making him look bad in front of the others.”

“Who does he think you are?”

“I told him my name is Charlene O'Sullivan.”

“Excellent.” Atticus clapped his hands together as the form of a man in a dark uniform was coming towards them. “I've always wanted a little sister to torment.”

“Sweetheart.” Granuaile said it in a warning tone.

“I'll be good. Mostly.”

They watched as Bass took in the sight of three giant Wolf Hounds frolicking together, pausing to study him curiously but not breaking a part. He didn't stop walking, though. He headed up the small rise to where the three of them were, Charlie and Granuaile seated at the base of a large tree and Atticus getting up with an affable grin on his face.

“Good day, my good man.” Atticus' voice was booming and bright. Bass came to a stop in front of him, his eyes quickly checking over Charlie before looking at her two guests and clearly seeing that they bore the same intricate markings as she. 

“Good day. My name is Sebastian Monroe, President of the Monroe Republic and general of her armies.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.” Atticus' smile continued to be friendly.

Granuaile was packing up the rest of the bread and tomatoes. The dogs and finished the bacon. “If you don't stop him, he'll just keep going. You know this.”

“Bass, this is my older brother, Atticus, and his wife Granuaile.”

That bit of new both seemed to relax Monroe and increase his guard. “Family. I don't believe we were expecting you, but it's good to meet you.”

“Yeah, well, I'd got to wondering why I hadn't heard from the brat for so long and decided to track her down. Imagine my surprise in finding her here. Cities really aren't our thing.”

There was a subtle tightening in Bass' shoulders. Charlie had gotten used to reading him, and she knew he didn't like being reminded that she disliked staying in the city. “Sometimes people can find reasons to rethink their options for staying or going.”

“True. And Charlie's always been full of surprises.”

“I'm certain that's true.” Charlie had gotten to her feet by then and joined the two men. Bass smiled her way and slipped an arm none too subtly about her waist, placing a soft, sweet kiss just below her ear. Nice way to make her 'brother' realize that he considered himself the reason Charlie was staying in Philadelphia. “I was going to ask Charlie if she wanted to join me for the rest of the day, but it would be churlish of me to disrupt your reunion. Instead, why don't I leave you three to get reacquainted? Are you planning too stay for a time?”

“A few days at least, maybe a week.”

“Then I insist you be our guests.” Easy use of the 'our' there, a subtle notice that he and Charlie were a couple. “I'll have a room readied for you at Liberty Hall and I insist that we go out tonight to celebrate your reunion.” 

“A fine idea, indeed. Charlie was going to show us the dogs you have her working with and then give us a tour of city. I'm sure we'll make our way there eventually.”

“I'm sure you will. I look forward to tonight.” Bass shook Atticus' hand, gave Granuaile a charming smile and turned his attention fully to Charlie so he could give her a lingering kiss, arms embracing her warmly. “I'll make the reservations for six. I think you'll enjoy the food at Hanover's. I've been meaning to take you there for a while now, but work kept interrupting.”

“Hey, Cook's nothing to sneeze at. It's a struggle to keep my girlish figure with him in the kitchen.”

Bass seemed to pause, but it was only for a heart beat. “There is that.” He kissed her again. “I'll see you later.”

He left them the same way he came, pausing to give Cuchulain a fond scratch between the ears before finally walking out of ear shot.

Atticus frowned. “He knows, or he at least suspects.”

Charlie frowned as well. “Knows what?”

“He suspects your pregnant. Let me guess, you've stopped drinking, you make sure you're gone before he has a chance to see you throw up, you've made changes to your diet, you're sleeping more.”

“Of course.”

Atticus nodded in the direction where Bass had eventually disappeared “That man has been around a pregnant woman before. He recognizes the signs. And you've been ratted out about throwing up once, there have probably been a few other times you didn't know about and he's keeping it to himself after you laid into him about the doctor.”

Charlie sighed. “Crap.”

Granuaile came to stand next to her. “You said it yourself; he's smart. And for my part, I don't think you screwed up the booster or that he's somehow having an adverse reaction to it. That looked genuine. I think the guy is really falling for you.”

“Yeah, like it's not creepy at all for the man considered a war criminal by most of the continent to be falling for you.”

Granuaile studied her closely. “You ever have any trouble working up the proper enthusiasm for sex?”

Charlie blinked at her. “No, but... so what? It's just sex, and he's pretty good at it. Really good at it, actually.”

“Uh huh.”

“What? What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just a thought.” 

Atticus gave his wife a look that recommended she drop her present line of thinking. “So, Charlie, let's check out these dogs you're trying to salvage.”

** Liberty Hall – 5 pm **

Bass found Charlie's brother in the library, perusing the collection. “If you tell me that you've read those,” he said, pointing to the 'Twilight' books on a top shelf, “I will lose all respect for you.”

“I hate to admit it, but I have. To my little sisters, before the Blackout.”

“Oh, well, if there were little sisters involved, I'll give you a pass.”

“Big of you. Speaking of little sisters...”

“Mine and my wife are upstairs in what I suspect is your room. They're about the same size, so Granuaile is going to borrow a dress from her.”

“Is this when you give me the threatening speech about how you'll rip my dick off if I break her heart?”

Atticus laughed. “Trust me, if you break Charlie's heart, the person you need to be worried about is Charlie. I wouldn't have time to get to you before she had you chopped into tiny pieces.”

Bass smiled. “I know. It's one of the things I like about her. She doesn't cower from a fight and she's not afraid of speaking her mind. Whiskey?”

“Yes, please.” Atticus followed Monroe over to a portable wet bar where the general poured two glasses. “So how did you and Charlie meet, anyway?”

“She was passing through town and stopped in a bar where I was with some of my officers. She just wanted a drink, but nearly started a riot instead. I intervened, both for her sake and to keep my men from tearing into one another.”

“She's the kind to stir up trouble. You sure you want to give involved in that?” He took a drink of the whiskey. “Good stuff.”

“Thank you, and yes, I am.” Bass frowned a bit. “This might go against your nature, being her brother, but maybe you can help me with something.”

“What's on your mind?”

“Charlie. Every time I think we're at a point that I can... deepen our relationship, she pulls back. She's...” He tried to think of a word.

“Skittish. Shies away from the idea. Acts like she's about to bolt.”

“So you've seen this before?”

Atticus shrugged. “She's Charlie. She's young and she precocious. Kid's only twenty, and she's never been one to get all moony-eyed over someone. If I had to guess, you've thrown her off her game and it's got her spooked.”

“Any advice you'd be willing to offer?”

He grimaced. “Well, being her older brother and all that I think I'm supposed to threaten to kill you for just thinking about sleeping with her. But, since I know she'd break both my legs if I dared, I'm going to go with let her come to you. Don't push her. You push Charlie, she'll push back four times as hard.”

Bass laughed at that, pouring more whiskey into Atticus' glass. “That sounds like her. So which side of the family has all the red hair?”

“That'd be both sides. No idea where Charlie came from. My theory is that Mom actually found her abandoned in the woods somewhere. I used to tell her she was actually a hairless wolf and not really a person.”

“So you followed the 'torment and torture' method of brotherhood.”

“Figured it was my place to do so. She turned out okay.” He thought a moment and shrugged. “Well, except for the slight tendency towards violence. Other than that, she's awesome.”

Bass grinned and finished his drink as the doors to the library opened and the ladies came in. Granuaile had borrowed a green dress from Charlie he had yet to see her wear. Charlie, however, was in that fanciful blue number that was a bitch to get into but also was so much fun for him to take off. A surge of hungry lust shot through him, but he kept it in check. It would be bad form to pull her to the floor and ruck up her skirt while her older sibling was right there. “Ladies, you look lovely.”

Atticus gave his wife an appreciative smile and kissed her deeply. He was wearing the same kind of clothing Charlie now wore everyday, only it seemed more formal with greater embroidery, all in the Celtic theme. “Have I told you how grateful I am that you decided to keep me?”

Granuaile smiled. “Not in the past twenty-four hours, but I seem to remember something to that effect.”

“Well, I'm saying it again; thank you for deciding to keep me.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Break it up you two. I'd like to eat sometime tonight.” Bass had made it over to her side and was smiling into her hair. He kissed the spot just below her ear that never failed to make her shiver and was holding her when she did. She turned her head slightly and whispered, “Behave.”

He only smiled more before turning his attention to his guests. “Shall we?”

Atticus gave a sweep of his hand. “Lead on.” 

Hanover's would have been considered an upscale establishment, even before the Blackout. The staff had been alerted to Monroe's plans to dine there as well as his unusual request that they be prepared to host three rather large but well behaved dogs. Anyone else and they would have refused, but one did not refuse the President of the Monroe Republic. They had a table that was far from the windows, a precaution that Bass had started taking after the disastrous birthday drink with Miles. The guards would have already checked and cleared the kitchen staff and made certain that there was no chance he or Charlie would come to harm. Their standing orders were that, should something happen, they were to grab Charlie first and get her out of there and back to Liberty Hall. 

The chef had prepared the best cuts of beef the butcher had to offer, combined with a salad based on dandelions, cheesy au gratin potatoes and soft bread with butter that had been sweetened with just a touch of honey. A red wine was offered, and all accepted but Charlie who quietly asked for milk. Bass said nothing, acting as though it was just another day.

The chef hadn't quite been certain what to make of Monroe's insistence that additional steaks be cooked for the three hounds, but he did as he was told, receiving thankful head bumps from the dogs before the settled in.

Barely a fourth of the way into the meal, Charlie gave a quiet snort. Atticus grinned her her direction and Granuaile was steadfastly looking at her plate, trying to hide a smile. Bass didn't get the joke. “What?”

Atticus shook his head. “Oh, nothing. It's just that we sometimes come across as a bit savage to regular people. It's the tattoos.”

Charlie grinned. “I'm seriously considering dropping the silverware and just eating with my hands.”

“I know. You just want to play up on the whole idea, don't you.” Atticus grinned right back at her. Bass arched a brow at the pair of them before looking across to see Granuaile giving her husband a warning look. 

“Well, looks like the adults need to intervene.” He motioned over to the most interested table, a set of four officers wives. They had their own little support group going, keeping one another occupied while they waited for their men to return from whatever current duty had them called away. Amongst them was Julia Neville. Bass reminded himself not to smirk when he saw the flash of annoying cross her face. Propriety would be that he go over himself, but he wasn't above pulling rank to summon her to him.

The too-thin blond rose from her seat and walked over to their table. “President Monroe, it's a pleasure to see you taking some time to relax.”

“More of a celebration. I wanted to introduce you to my companions. This is Julia Neville, her husband is one of my most trusted officers. Julia, I'm sure you've already heard about Charlie O'Sulliavan, she just joined my staff taking over the canine program. And today we are celebrating her family coming for a visit. This is her older, Atticus, and his wife, Granuaile.” Bass frowned. “Did I pronounce that correctly?”

“Perfectly.”

“It is a mouthful, isn't it? The MacTiernans are more traditional than the O'Sullivans. I mean, Atticus and Charlene, those obviously aren't Irish names, but Granuaile is old school. Ouch!” Atticus stopped talking and rubbed his shin. Apparently Granuaile had kicked him.

Charlie looked at Bass. “What was that you said about the adults intervening?”

“Looks like I may have been wrong about who the adults are.” Bass looked back at Julia. “You'll be glad to know that Tom should be home soon. Probably another month or so.”

Julia's smile was now genuine. “That is good to know. Thank you.” She turned her eyes to Charlie. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Charlie. You've become the talk of the officers' wives. Perhaps, if Bass ever gives you a day off, you could join some of us for a day out.”

Yeah, like that would be fun. “Perhaps. He is a bit of a slave driver, though. I'm still expecting him to chew me out later for cutting class short today when these two showed up.”

“I still might,” Bass responded, but it was clear he was considering no such thing. “That's all I had to tell you, Julia, unless you have need of something?”

“No, and I should really get back to my friends. It as lovely to meet you Charlie, Atticus, Granuaile.” She nodded to each of them in turn and walked back over to her table where the gossip probably got even more fervent.

Atticus let out a soft snort. “Now there is the definition of a high maintenance woman.”

“Manipulative, too.” Bass kept his voice low. “Tom's a friend, but they're cut from the same cloth. He's like a human lie detector and he's always got his eye on the next rung up. They have a son, and I sometimes feel sorry for the boy, being raised by a couple of piranha like them. Don't know how he managed to turn out to balanced.”

They continued their meal with Atticus telling Bass stories about Charlie's weapons training. Bass had wanted to know where she had learned formal sword work and Atticus told him it was a family tradition. 

“So, there's a horde of Irish descendants out there who are all master swordsmen and archers?”

“No, nothing like a horde. It's mostly an O'Sullivan trait and there aren't a lot of us left on this side of the pond. I taught the brat there and my lovely wife. If you think Charlie's something with her archery and sword, you should see this one with a fighting staff and her throwing knives. Sometimes some douche will say something sexist or demeaning to her and I just stand back and watch, wishing I had popcorn.”

That made Bass laugh, not out of disbelief but because he could see it as a truth. He had no doubt Charlie could make mincemeat out of anyone who crossed her. He was starting to suspect that was something she picked up from her brother and his wife, though it wouldn't have surprised him if teaching your girls to fight their own battles wasn't a 'family tradition' as well. There were more and more families starting to think that way in the decades leading up to the Blackout, as the world became more violent and crimes against women had been on the rise. Hell, if Bass had ever had a daughter, he most certainly would have insisted she know how to fight. 

And that thought made a fist around his heart. He told himself not to glance towards Charlie, especially not downwards. If his suspicions were right, it was her prerogative to tell him when she was ready.

They finished their meal in good spirits and laughter, lingering over a desert of cherries over a slice of angel's food cake. Eventually the time came to leave but Charlie asked Bass to go one without her. “We need to let the dogs run a bit and I'd like some more family time.”

He kissed her, mindful that they were in a restaurant filled with people and keeping it socially acceptable. He knew people were watching and he wanted them to. Let there be no doubt in anyone's mind that Charlie wasn't just another mistress or prostitute. “I have some things to do before I can call it a day, anyway. I'll see you back home.” 

The guards escorted Bass back to Liberty Hall. The three O'Sullivans declined a guard, assuring everyone that they were more than capable of taking care of themselves as they made their way to the park and told the dogs to have at it. Oberon, Orla and Cuchulain were more interested in playing than anything else and it was good to see the three of them together again. 

“He's a charmer. I'll give the psycho that.” Granuaile rubbed her shoulders companionably. “And pretty. Those twins should be gorgeous.”

“The thing is, I can't believe he's always been unhinged. And he's seemed to get more and more stable the longer I'm around. I mean, why would my family have welcomed in as practically one of us if he was always a homicidal dick?”

“Even good men can be broken. The Blackout broke a lot of people. It could be he's another victim or the chaos allowed him to show his true colors.”

Charlie shook her head. “And Uncle Miles was just like him? That just doesn't track for me.”

“Me neither, truth be told.” Granuaile glanced towards Liberty Hall. “Which one is she in?”

“Second floor, East side. Her windows start sixth from the left. That's the one I got open, left it that way in case she needed to make a quick getaway.”

“Good to know in case we have to help you get them out. Atticus and I aren't going to head back home until this is settled. We may look away, but we'll be staying close.”

“Thanks for that. I feel kind of stupid, needing help dealing with ordinary people. I don't even have a vampire or witch to throw into the mix.”

“Oh, don't feel stupid,” Atticus gave her a light punch in the shoulder. “Just because he's not a Druid or a vampire or a mage doesn't making him harmless. Besides, you're on his turf with a few thousand soldiers at his beck and call. Even I would probably lose that fight.”

“No you wouldn't. You wouldn't even have picked this fight.”

“I probably would have if his men had killed my da, or if they had taken off with you or Granuaile, or killed Oberon. The fight is just. I just think you made it complicated, though it did have the unexpected bonus of finding your mother. Evens out in the end, and we won't leave you hanging on this. Three druids are better than one, and if he's focused on you, he won't notice when Granuaile and I take off with Danny and your mother.”

She leaned up against the large tree she had tethered to Tir na nOg, a smile on her lips as she toyed with the crude iron cross around her neck. “Thanks for that.”

Atticus nodded at the cross. “I see you got that bound to your aura. Good work.”

“Followed your advice. Befriended an iron elemental and fed him some rather annoying faeries that no one was likely to miss.”

“Heh.” He seemed genuinely proud. “Haven't started on any charms yet?” 

“Haven't had time. I've been busy the past two years trying to keep the Militia away from my family.” Her eyes glanced over the myriad of charms on Atticus' necklace. His central iron piece was round, nothing too fancy. Same thing for Granuaile's. Her choice of an iron cross had been something of a scandal amongst the Tuatha de Danan, but she hadn't cared. It'd been Granuaile who had told her that you didn't have to follow the Celtic pantheon to be a Druid. A Druid's power came from the Earth, not from the Irish gods, who had been mortals and the first druids until the Irish people had elevated them to godhood. Atticus had grudgingly confirmed Granuaile's assessment but told her to that if she decided to follow a deity to look at the deity themselves, not at the followers, because “every religion has more than its fair share of assholes.” 

Some had seen her settling on the Christian Deity to be something of a betrayal, since The Church had been active in the attempted eradication of the druids after it had taken over Rome. Still, look at the Deity, not the followers. The Deity she followed was solid; it was just that sometimes people did horrible shit in His name. The Deity she could support, but she wasn't buying into any one specific flavor of Christianity any time soon.

And even Atticus liked Christ and Mary. Heck, he was older than both and he and Christ were even drinking buddies sometimes.

“You know, it'd just be easier if you'd remember to pray now and again and not just muse over things.”

The familiar voice made her jump and turn. Leaning against the tree about a foot away, it was a large tree, was a handsome, dark skinned man dressed in what she now knew to be Western style clothing from before the Blackout. That was the thing about gods and Gods, they could manifest but were often tied to whatever their believers imagined them to be. That's why more people saw Mary than saw Christ. Who would want to manifest half naked, a crown of thorns piercing his head and nails through is hands and feet? Not to mention most people still imagined him as white with blue eyes when, if you took into consideration where he was born, was highly unlikely.

Atticus had cracked up when He'd shown up the first time for Charlie, because she had pictured him based off of some movie she watched with her uncle before the Blackout. All she remembered about it was a heroic looking man in a nice hat and a giant mechanical spider. Atticus said she'd made Christ look like someone named Will Smith out of the movie “Wild, Wild West”.

“Jesus! Good to see you, Buddy!” Atticus and the Son of God exchanged a manly hug. “What brings you bye?”

“One of mine is in pain. Been waiting for her to ask for help, or at least some guidance, but you know how stubborn this one can be.”

“That's the truth.” Atticus ruffled Charlie's hair affectionately. “Up for a beer, or whatever that bar over there passes off as beer?”

“You buying?”

“Ain't I always?”

“Then let's go.” Christ gave Charlie a brotherly smile as he put an arm about her shoulders to walk her along with them. “None for you. Not good for the babies.” She rolled her eyes in answer but went along with them. 

The dogs remained outside, playing and tumbling around together while the four adults entered the crowded bar. Atticus claimed a table for them and let the others get comfortable while he went up to the bar and got them drinks. 

“To be honest, I'm surprised that you even come down to see me anymore.”

“Why would I stop?”

Charlie flinched a little. “I haven't exactly been a 'good girl'. There's a lot of blood on my hands.”

“My place is not to judge, but to bring forgiveness. However, you don't bother much with repentance, even though you know it's there.”

“Seems a little hypocritical to ask forgiveness for something you're likely to do again the next day. I didn't feel comfortable with it.”

Jesus reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I was sent to take on the burdens of those who need me. My shoulders can more than support the weight. Besides, what you've been up to is child's play to some of the things your teacher has done. Ask him about the time he nearly ended the world some day.”

“But not today,” Granuaile interjected. “You should never get him in bard mode in a bar. That's just asking for trouble.”

“That was the whole Ragnarok thing, right? Something about taking out some of the key players in the Asgard pantheon?”

“Yes, but we're not going to get him started on it when we're in a bar.” Granuaile gave her a stern look that turned into a smile when Atticus returned with the drinks. Three pints of whatever swill was being passed off as beer and a pint glass of water for Charlie.

Jesus took an experimental sip of his and grimaced. “Hard to believe Humanity would forget how to make a proper ale. It isn't as though their ancestors weren't mastering fermentation long before the discovery of electricity.”

“Just like the Dark Ages. They're going backwards a bit before they can go forwards again.” Atticus shrugged. “They got too comfortable with their machines and shortcuts. Took the artistry out of it.”

“You know it's kind of creepy when you talk about things like the Dark Ages as though they happened last year, right?” Charlie picked up her glass and blinked at it. What had been clear water was now a yellow-orange something that smelled quite pleasing. “Huh?” She looked over at Jesus to find him smirking as he drank from a pint that now held a much clearer and frothier brew.

From around the bar were sounds of surprise. The happy kind of surprise. Apparently everyone was finding that their drinks were markedly improved. 

“You just can't help yourself, can you?” Atticus took a healthy drink of what now looked like a stout.

“It's nothing big. And I've always like the little things when they're unexpected like that.”

Charlie took a drink of her glass. The sweet and tangy flavor of oranges like those she had tried when Atticus had taken her down to what was once Florida to introduce her to Everglades. It tasted like liquid sunshine. She gave an 'mmmm' of appreciation and drank some more.

Granuaile looked at the glass. “Did you just give her a never ending glass of orange juice?” Charlie checked and the level hadn't gone down at all, even though both of her drinks had been large ones.

“It'll be good for her. Plenty of folic acid and vitamin C. She'll need it for the upcoming months.”

“I don't suppose this is a never ending glass of stout?” Atticus gave him a hopeful look.

Jesus laughed. “You do remember how to brew a proper keg. And it's a lot harder for her to get oranges.”

“It was worth a shot.” 

The quartet spent a merry hour laughing and talking as the crowd grew, word of the premium liquor to be had spreading. Somehow after that first hour instruments came out, either brought in by newcomers or having been hidden somewhere in the bar. Acoustic versions of pre-Blackout songs rang out and somehow enough floor space was made that people were even dancing. After a while the first group of musicians gave over to a fresh crew so they could concentrate on beer and whiskey for a bit and, to Atticus' delight, the new group were more of a Celtic bent.

Charlie laughed as he pulled Granuaile out onto the floor, the couple dancing to an Irish jig as though born to it. Which, if you thought about it, at least one of them had been.

“Theirs is truly an inspirational union.”

Charlie looked over at Jesus. “I know. It can be seen if you have the ability to look in the magical realm. Atticus used to link my sight with his so he could teach me how to recognize the different types of bindings. I've only seen a few couples that have the kind of bindings that are between them.” She gave them a gentle smile, watching the two red heads as they twirled gracefully as though one entity. “It's rare.”

“It is. Do you know that Atticus didn't even realize it? Granuaile practically had to beat him over the head to get him to look, in that clever way that smart women have.”

“Maybe he was just jaded. I mean, he is kind of old. And maybe he thought he couldn't fall in love like that again. The man was married for over two hundred years once.”

“Or maybe he let everything else going on, all the gods and the monsters and the insanity, blind him to what was right in front of him.”

“Sounds like they were having a fun time. Granuaile said that her binding kept getting interrupted. Part of the whole 'almost ending the world' thing?”

Jesus chuckled. “Definitely.” He finished off his ale and set the glass down, which soon refilled itself with a brew of another tint, something with more red in it. “Now, here's the part where I give you some advice.”

She put down her orange juice and paid attention. You didn't ignore advice offered by the Son of God. It wasn't smart. “I'm listening.”

“You know how Atticus taught you how to make all those different spaces in your head? Good use of the brain, that. It's where the Druids get their perfect memory and recollection and how you can actually multitask.”

“Yes. Different head spaces made by learning different things. Usually languages, but also by memorizing a body of work written by a prolific author. Granuaile memorized everything written by Whitman, Atticus and I both memorized Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare. That's the perfect one. Lots of tragedy and melodrama there.”

She gave him a confused look. “You want me to use my Shakespeare head space for something?”

“I am going to suggest that you do.” He set down his glass and reached across the table, taking one of her hands into his. “You have a hard road ahead of you, but you don't have all the facts on which to base our decisions. So I'm going to ask that you do something for yourself. Something that will give you clearer vision.”

“Clearer vision? There's something I'm not seeing?”

“There is, because you are letting the pain and chaos around you shadow your eyesight. Close your eyes.” She did so, her trust unshakeable. “Now, I want you to take everything that's been hurting you and tuck it away in that part of your brain that houses all of Shakespeare's great tragedies. Your father's death. Daniel's abduction. You mother's imprisonment. Take all of that and put it away, snug and sound.” 

Charlie did as he asked. It wasn't easy. He was basically asking her... not so much as 'forget', but to quarantine those things. He was right in that the Shakespeare head space was the right place for those memories, thoughts and pains. Once she had them successfully secured, camouflaged amongst the literary sorrows in that part of her mind, she felt... lighter. She somehow felt at peace with herself.

“Better, right?”

“Yes, better. I suppose I have been letting myself become rather myopic over the whole thing.” She rolled her neck and shoulders. “I hadn't realized how stressed out I was.”

“'Stressed out' is a rather large understatement.” He smiled at her and let go of her hand. He picked up her glass of orange juice and handed it to her. “Now, it's late and you need your rest. Leave Cuchulain here. Atticus and Granuaile will get him home. You should go back to Liberty Hall, but once you're there, take a close look at that man you've entangled in this web of yours. A real one.”

She frowned. “You think I should use my sight on Monroe?”

“I do. As I said, there are facts you haven't been able to see because of the pain you've let drive you. You need to take a close look at the real man behind the uniform and the title. Gather your facts so that you can make informed decisions on how to proceed.”

“You think it will change my mind?”

“I think it may change your tactics. What you do, what choices you make and what choices you ask Sebastian Monroe to make, will have a massive impact on the future. For a lot of people.”

“Okay, now I'm confused.”

He chuckled. “Don't let that part worry you right now. You'll know what it means when the time comes. For now, you should run along home. Don't forget your orange juice.”

Charlie could take a hint. She got up from her chair, fastening her cloak around her shoulders as Christ got to his feet to give her a hug good night. Picking up her glass she headed out of the bar on her own, her steps even a bit lighter. Perhaps Jesus was right; she had been letting the pain of everything driving her narrow her vision in everything. Even the night sky looked prettier though the light pollution from the street lamps. 

It didn't take her long to get to Liberty Hall. The guards let her in without a word and the clicking of her dress shoes echoed from the wood floors and against the walls. She was taking another drink from her glass when she noted that there was still enough light coming out from under Monroe's office door to signal that he was still up and at work. The guard outside he door opened it for her without her having to ask.

Monroe looked up from his desk, a stack of reports before him he had been going through. He smiled at her as she set down her glass and unfastened her cloak. “Word is that there's a hell of a party going on over at Kendrick's.”

“There is. I suspect that Atticus may even have a hangover come morning. Glad it's not my job to nurse him through it.”

Monroe put away the reports, a chuckle shaking his shoulders. “What a loving sibling.” 

“He's got a wife. He doesn't need a sister.” She placed her glass on a nearby sideboard and hung up her cloak, Christ's words playing in her head. She could hear his footfalls as he came out from behind the desk. Closing her eyes she murmured the words to bind her vision to the magical spectrum under her breath. When she opened them again the world was different. Delicate lines of light glimmered from all around her, the delicate chains of bindings between the fibers of the wood in the floors and furniture. She could 'zoom in' and see the details, but that wasn't what she was after. Charlie turned around, a smile on her lips that faded as she saw Monroe in this new light. 

She saw the stress and anxiety that most likely came with the job of running everything, tinged with the paranoia she knew he felt. That paranoia, however, seemed to be weakening, as though something was chipping away at it bit by bit. She saw the raw, gaping wound that matched the one she saw in Miles back in Chicago, where two men who loved one another like brothers were torn apart. She had expected that. Miles would not have been so damaged without there being some reciprocity. However the wound in Monroe was in the first stages of healing, new bindings taking hold of the ragged edges and weaving themselves into place. New bindings that stretched both from him to her and from her to him. Bindings she knew because she had seem them before. 

_I've only seen a few couples with the kind of bindings that are between them. It's rare._

Too rare, and these were new and delicate. Gossamer strands that were just taking hold. 

“Charlie?” His voice was laced with concern. She hadn't realized that she had put her hand to her mouth or that her eyes were starting to tear. This couldn't be. Not with him. Not with the man who had done so much damage to her family. She felt his hands come to rest on her shoulders and she pulled away sharply, holding her hands up to ward him off as she walked around him and hurried from the office and upstairs to the bedroom they shared. 

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was getting the bindings mixed up with something else. It had been a long time since she had looked at Granuaile and Atticus, after all. She hurried to the windows looking out into the park and looked down to where the bar could be seen, the three massive dogs wagging their tails madly. The party had spilled part way onto the park grass, Atticus and Granuaile the center of it as they went round and around to the music. Charlie 'zoomed in' and looked at the bindings between her mentor and his wife. The same pattern. The same shade of color. Stronger and older, but definitely the same. 

Something white and blinding stepped into the edge of her field of vision and she slammed her eyes shut, dismissing the binding. One did not look at someone like Jesus in the magical spectrum unless you were ready to burn out your retinas. Divine beings such as he were too much for mortal eyes and minds to truly behold without a buffer, such as a human skin to wear while they were visiting.

_“Why?”_ She sent the thought out, knowing she'd be heard.

_“As I said; you needed to know all the facts. Atticus almost brought about the end of the world because he could not break his word to his friends. Believe it or not, the decisions you make here, the decisions you lead Sebastian to make, could very well save what is left of the world as it is. There are enemies coming your way about whom you have no knowledge, enemies that make what the Monroe Republic and her Militia do seem like child's play. And without you, they will play Monroe like a puppet. You are in a position to affect great change for the better.”_

She heard the door to the suite open behind her. “Charlie? Are you all right?”

Was she all right? No, she was not all right. Her own heart had betrayed her, letting this man chip away at her defenses no matter how hard she fought to keep herself focused. “I'm scared.”

It didn't surprise her when his hands came up to her arms. “Scared off what.”

She didn't know when the tears had started. “I don't like to put down roots. I don't like cities. I like wide open spaces and forests and freedom.” She took a breath. “I never wanted to stay here.”

His hands tightened on her arms slightly. She felt him stiffen. “Has your brother asked you to leave with him?”

She shook her head. “No, Atticus would only ask me to come with him if there was something up he needed my help with. I'm pretty much left to my own devices.”

“Then... you want to leave.”

“Everything in my head tells me a should... but I can't.” Salt stung her cheeks from the tears. “I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with you.” Absolutely sure, actually. Those particular, rare bindings were as sacred to a Druid as Christian wedding vows. Atticus called them 'Soul Knots', because they bound two souls, but when he was feeling sappy he called them 'Heart Knots'. By druidic beliefs and magics will she was well on her way to becoming Monroe's wife. Those types of knots rarely, if ever, formed more than once for a person.

Bass spun her around and captured her lips with his own, the kiss deep and searing. He trailed his lips to kiss away the tears on her cheeks. “I was afraid if I said it first, you'd run.”

She gave a chuff. “Good instincts. I would have.”

He pulled back, his hands moving up to tangle in her hair. “There's nothing to be afraid of, Charlene. You aren't alone in this, I promise you.”

If he only knew. “I should probably tell you something else.”

He kissed her again, the tips of his fingers massaging her scalp through her hair. She'd forgotten how nice it felt to have someone play with her hair. “What?”

“I'm pregnant.” She looked up at him, curious as to how he'd take the news. He just smiled.

“I know.”

A snort of a laugh escaped her. “Atticus said you probably already had that figured out. Why didn't you call me on it?”

“Because it's a woman's right to decide when she'll say anything. I was letting you make up your own mind as to when you wanted me to know.”

“How uncharacteristically thoughtful of you.”

“No, I'm just learning that I can't expect you to jump at my every beck and call. It helps that I'm starting to realize I'd get bored with someone subservient. Likely why I can't seem to let you go when I had no problem saying good-bye to all the others.”

“So you get off on a woman who can break your nose and refuses to follow orders. A little twisted for a military leader, don't you think?”

He pulled her into a hug. “Probably.” He kissed her hair. “Will you do something for me?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Will you finally let the doctor examine you? Just for my peace of mind if for no other reason?”


	8. Chapter 8

** Philadelphia, Liberty Hall **

Bass looked up from his desk when Atticus came in, looking nothing at all like a man with a hangover. “Fun night?”

“Fantastic! Your city knows how to throw a good impromptu shindig.” He looked around. “Ah, there it is.” Walking over, he picked up the glass Charlie had set down on the sideboard the night before and took a deep swig from it.

“That's been sitting out all night.”

Atticus swallowed. “Doesn't matter. It's still good. Great, really.” He went over to the wet bar and poured some of what looked suspiciously like orange juice into one of the whiskey glasses and offered it to him. “Here, take a swig.”

It was orange juice. “Where the hell did you get this?”

“A friend of Charlie's came through town last night. That's how we ended up at the bar. Since she's not drinking right now, he gave her something else.”

“And who is this friend that he can get oranges?”

“The kind of friend it's better to just accept and not question overmuch.”

“What is this friend's name?”

“Jesus.” Atticus just shrugged and took another drink. “Who else could give her a never ending glass of orange juice?”

Bass gave a smile. “You're screwing with me.”

“No, this is me telling you that if you want to be part of this family, then you need to get used to weird. We have an abundance of weird.” He refilled Bass' glass and this time Bass checked. The level of the orange juice in the original glass didn't go down. “Speaking of Charlie the Terrible, where is she?”

“Upstairs, allowing my personal physician to examine her.”

“Finally came clean about the pregnancy, huh? I told her that you'd probably had already figured it out.”

“Yes, she did. And I did have my suspicions.” He drank the second glass. He hadn't had an orange or orange juice since before the Blackout. He'd forgotten how wonderful it tasted. He heard footfalls on the staircase in the hall and a moment later the Charlie came into the room with the doctor. “Were you a better patient this time?”

“She was a delight, and is in the pink of health. She's insisting it's twins, but it's too early for me to tell.”

“It is. One of each.” Charlie walked over and took her glass from Atticus, taking a long drink from it. “If you still don't believe me, Doc, I'll bet you a twenty carat pink diamond that I'm right.”

“I forgot I had that in there.” 

Charlie looked over at Atticus. “You want it back? You could make Granuaile one hell of a bracelet with it.”

He seemed to ponder, then shook his head. “Nah. It's just one stone.”

Bass and the doctor looked at the siblings in something like shock. It was Bass who spoke up first. “You have a pink diamond that weighs twenty carats?”

“Used to. Now she does.”

“Where have you been keeping it?”

Charlie shrugged. “I'm my dresser with my clothes and the rest of my stash. Why?”

He arched a brow at her. “Do you realize I could outfit three regiments with that?”

“Outfit your own damn regiments. You've got your own money.”

Atticus cleared his throat. “I think he's trying to impress upon you that he thinks it's unwise to be hiding a fortune in your underwear drawer.”

“At the very least I'd feel more comfortable if you'd let me put it in the house vault where it would be more secure.”

Charlie shrugged and grabbed her canteen from her waist. She opened it and slowly poured orange juice inside. “Knock yourself out. And it's not in my underwear drawer; it's in the one where I keep my trousers. And get your head out of the gutter or I'll tell your wife.”

“My wife likes it when I keep my head in the gutter. Makes her evenings more fun.”

“Eww.” She set the glass back down on Monroe's desk and screwed the canteen lid shut. “Seriously, Bass, if it bothers you, my stash is upstairs. Just leave me some pocket money in case I see something I want. I don't want to have to chase you down for an allowance.”

“Where are you going?”

She gave him a curious look. “To work. I've got a job to do.” She came around the desk and gave him a kiss at the corner of his mouth, keeping it respectful given that they had two witnesses in the room. 

“You haven't had breakfast, yet.”

“I'm going through the kitchens on the way out. Cook can throw together something for me and something to nibble on later.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “If you're that certain it's twins, you'll need to be certain to eat more than a regular pregnancy. At least an extra five to six hundred calories worth.”

“I know, and I have been. You men are a bunch of nervous idiots when it comes to this. I'm pregnant, not dying.” She didn't see Bass flinch, but Atticus did. He filed that away for further investigation.

Charlie left them behind her, not wanting to waste too much time after cutting her session short yesterday. She was a bit tired. Bass had been in a celebratory mood after finally getting to hear that she did care for him and confirmation that they were going to have a family. Their lovemaking last night had been slow and gentle, instead of the usual no-holds-barred way they tore into one another. To her mind, that made it almost torture. She knew the man had staying power and a quick recovery, but when he took his time he about drove her to madness. Not that she was going to complain.

Cook indeed did whip up something for her. Egg whites, ham and cheese between slices of dry toast, another one for later and a pack of dried apples, cherries and nuts to munch on in a pinch. She gave the robust man a peck on the cheek before heading out. 

She could have taken a horse or had herself taken to the stables by carriage, but she preferred walking. She could slip off her shoes and let her feet sink into the sleeping grass, the magic of the earth beneath her feet recharging her and tickling her skin like a slight electric current. Fairmount was in a chatty mood, thrilled to have three druids visiting her. Feeling rather smug about it, actually.

[Does Fairmount know I'm here?] Cuchulain had followed her out of the office,figuring Atticus and his parents were sentry enough. She reached over and scratched his head fondly.

_She calls you Druid Friend. She knows you're my companion._

[Cool. You know, it's kind of awesome that you can do all this stuff. Like talking to elementals and changing shape and being on a first name basis with gods and stuff. You should wear a cape.]

_I do wear a cape, sort of._

[Yeah, but that's just you having fun with a fairy tale. Do you think Little Red Riding Hood was a real person?]

_I don't know. Atticus says that a lot of legends and old stories got their basis in facts that have long since been obscured. There may have been a girl who wandered off into the woods once and was attacked by a wolf, or was maybe saved by a woodsman from a wolf, but the story has been so embellished that it would be unrecognizable from the original tale._

[So what is the story for?]

_It's a cautionary tale now, about how little girls shouldn't wander off into the woods by themselves. Maybe also a story for parents that they should be careful what errands they send their children to do because someone might prey on them._

[Oh. Well in that case, I don't think most people pay attention.] She laughed at that, almost choking on her last bite of sandwich as she reached the stables. 

“Are you all right, Miss O'Sullivan?”

That voice could kill a mood. She swallowed the bite of sandwich and met Strausser's eyes. “Perfectly fine. No need to go running off to tattle on me. Just went down the wrong pipe.”

“If you're certain.” He gave a look towards Cuchulain, that cold light flaring in his eyes for a moment.

“Stop fantasizing about dissecting my hound.” There was nothing friendly in her voice. He looked back up to meet her eyes.

“I wouldn't dream of it. Besides, I prefer my subjects to be able to speak.” He gave her a half smirk. “I saw your relatives earlier. That sister-in-law of yours is a real looker. I've always had a fondness for red heads.”

She blinked, then burst out laughing. “Granuaile? You wouldn't last two minutes with her. Hell, you wouldn't even be able to clear your knife from its scabbard before she had you cut if half.”

“Is that so?”

“Remember when I told you that I could split your head open? She's the one who taught me how. Trust me, Granuaile makes most of your toughest soldiers look like incompetent toddlers.”

“I see.” He didn't look convinced. “My apologies if I am making you uncomfortable, but it's been some time since I have been able to do any... real work. President Monroe hasn't needed my skills as an interrogator in some time.”

“Aww, poor baby.” 

“No matter. I have an expectation that the lull will come to an end soon. A certain political prisoner, rather stubborn. We've had her for some time. She's one of my favorites.” Strausser licked his lips as though thinking of a particularly tasty meal. He stopped to look at Cuchulain who had started to growl deep in his chest, his haunches tensing as though preparing to attack. 

Charlie put a calming hand on Cuchulain's head. “We really don't have time to listen to your sick fantasies, Sergeant. I have work to do. Come.” Cuchulain followed her as she walked away.

[Did he just threaten your mom? He totally just threatened your mom! Let me at him! I'll snap his neck like a deer!]

Not now. She was working hard to contain her rage. _It's daylight and there are too many possible witnesses. But you're right, it's time we took care of that sick bastard.”_

** Lowell, Indiana **

Maggie's face was calm and collected, even as she held her bleeding leg. “He cut an artery. I'm bleeding out.”

Miles glowered. Aaron might be dead weight, but a doctor was a useful person to have around. Maggie was light years ahead of his crude field first aide. “How do we stop it?”

“Only way to stop it would be surgery. The artery would have to be closed.”

“You got what we need?”

“In my bag.” She swallowed. “But the chances of getting finished in time...”

Miles had already grabbed the bag. “Shut up and tell me what I'm looking for.”

She told him which items they needed. When she said they needed them to be sterilized he told Nora to grab the bottle of whiskey in his pack. 

“You haven't even opened this, yet?”

“Yeah, well, someone told me I should consider quitting. Bring it over here, will ya?”

She moved but someone grabbed her from behind through the window leading into the kitchen. Miles shouted for her but the racket that followed told him things were fine. He heard a man's voice curse loudly and then saw Nora land back against the window as though she had been pushed, the bottle still in her hand and a bit bloody.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She hopped back through the window and tossed him the bottle. Yep, there was blood. “He thought better of grabbing me after I smashed his nose.” That was Nora; tough as nails and good in a fight. “Good, keep a watch on that window. Aaron, get over here and help me.”

“Cut me loose.” Miles shot an annoyed look at the Militia spy they'd caught following them again. He couldn't make himself kill the kid. He didn't even look old enough to shave yet. He recognized the boy Neville's kid. No surprise that he signed up. “Cut me loose. I can help guard.”

“That's so not happening.” Miles kept an eye on the kitchen window as he moved backwards and made sure the front door was secured. Nora was following Maggie's instructions, her hands steadier, a result of her trade. Shaky bomb makers didn't live long.

“I can help!”

“And then try to kill everyone else here in a stupid attempt to take me back to Monroe. Sit down and shut up.” Miles looked over at Maggie. She was losing a lot of blood. With a scowl, he walked over to his pack, keeping an eye on the window, and dug around until he pulled out the last bottle of Charlie's god awful tea. He carried it back to where the Nora was diligently following orders, Aaron acting as her assistant. The bottle had a swing top on it and was a little less than three quarters full. He flipped the lid off with a pop and handed it to Maggie. “Drink this.”

“Alcohol will only make me bleed faster.”

“It's not alcohol. It's something Charlie gave me when she passed through Chicago.” Maggie took the bottle, curious, and took a sniff. 

“Oh!” She held the bottle away from her nose. “It's that awful tea she makes.”

“Yeah, tastes as bad as it smells, but it works. Drink it. Probably should drink all that's left.” Maggie gave him a questioning look. “Just trust me on this.”

Nora was making delicate suture in the artery. Maggie gave him a weak nod. She needed Aaron's help to hold the bottle to her lips and grimaced as she started to drink.

Once Nora had closed up the wound and Maggie had drank maybe a third of the remaining tea, the woman was starting to look better. She still looked dangerously pale, but she didn't look like she was going to keel over on them at any time soon. 

“Nora, you keep an eye out here. I'm going to go look for this guy.” 

“Watch your back.”

“I got this.” He leapt through the window of the diner's kitchen and went hunting.”

** Philadelphia – Later that night – Stables **

Strausser was locking up for the night. He moved out from the lamp lights of the stables when a flicker of movement caught his eye. He looked over and saw Cuchulain, standing a few years before the treeline and watching him. He was a magnificent animal. As tall as most men on his hind legs and well muscled. He suspected that O'Sullivan used him as a hunting hound in the woods. He'd be well suited to the task. 

“Why are you out here without your mistress?” He moved slowly. The dog was well trained, and he had no doubt that it could be a killer if need be. Still, he did not know of him being without the girl save for when in the company of her sibling and his wife with their own hounds. He wouldn't be here without company.

Something caught his eye. He looked over and saw a cloak hanging from a knew limb on a tree, the wind rustling it. In the dim light of night it looked gray like everything else, but the shape of it was familiar enough to him that he suspected it was scarlet. Curiosity got the better of him and he moved towards the tree. Cuchulain made no move towards him. To the contrary, the massive dog lay down on the cold ground, watching him in silence. 

Will pushed away a feeling of unease and went up to the slight hill to the tree. Now that he was closer he could see that it was definitely Charlene's cloak. Another bit of gray a bit further away claimed his attention and he walked over to what proved to be clothing like what she favored folded neatly and left at the base of a tree, her shoes set next to them.

He frowned. Surely the girl wasn't so foolish as to be unfaithful to Monroe. She had to know that any man other than the President she dallied with would be killed on sight. Especially now that it was confirmed she was pregnant. For her sake, that child had better be the President's. 

He listened carefully for sounds of a tryst or some indication of where O'Sullivan might be. Somewhere ahead and off to his left he heard the rustle of leaves and snap of fallen branches. Reaching down he pulled out the large hunting knife he kept in a sheathe at his waist. If the woman was foolish enough to be cheating on Monroe, he would take care of the man himself and deliver the body to the President.

The wind shifted and he thought he caught the faint scent of something wild on the breeze. He checked behind him and Cuchulain was still laying where he was before. The dog hadn't moved, and he wasn't watching him. If anything, it looked as though the hound was playing look-out, his massive head steadfastly turned towards the road back to the city.

There was a sudden burst of sound. Strausser whirled in time to see something massive and golden hurtling towards him. A snarl preceded the feel of jaws clamping down onto his forearm. He felt the bones break and knew his hand had released the knife. The blur of fur and teeth tugged him from his feet and sent him to the ground, only then releasing its hold.

He hadn't even had time to scream. He caught his breath and looked up at the attacker. Then his entire body froze.

It wasn't a dog. The animal was too large for a dog, likely larger than Cuchulain and his parents. Long of limb, deep and in chest and too feral in appearance for a domesticated canine. He'd only ever seen them in pictures or in a zoo when he was a child, but he recognized the animal; wolf. From the size of it, one of those monsters from far north in the Alaskan and Canadian wilds, though how the animal got this far south and east he couldn't fathom.

The beast lowered its impressive head and picked up the knife he had dropped between its jaws in an almost laughingly delicate manner. Then, with a flick of its head, it tossed the blade back to him. Strausser knew that wasn't normal wolf behavior, so he took a closer look. Golden fur a hue he had seen before. Eyes that were an icy shade of blue instead of yellow as they should be. And though it sounded ridiculous, he knew that he was right.

“O'Sullivan?” It was just a whisper. He suspected she could hear him, and the chuffing laughter the wolf made in response told him he was right. It was her, Monroe's woman. 

Strausser reached out with his off hand and picked up the blade. He slowly got to his feet, holding his mangled arm to his body as he kept his eyes locked on her. He knew she hated him. He had no thoughts one way or the other about her other than how she might damage Monroe and the Republic. It seemed that she had decided to remove the bur from under her saddle once and for all. 

He gripped his knife tightly, readying himself. “All right. Let's go, then.”

They circled one another until she was between him and her hound. That was either to prevent him from running or to prevent him from going for the dog as a hostage. It could have been both, but he had no intention of backing out of this fight. His blood was pumping and he felt the smile stretch his lips. He felt as though he were about to do battle with the gods themselves.

She was quick and light on her feet for something so large. Likely because like true wolves she was mainly on her toes, making her agile. She'd dart in to try and take a bite out of him and he would counter with his blade. He only managed to graze her coat before she was out again. He was watching for her next move, but she feinted one way only to go the other and latched onto his left calf. He yelled out in pain as she tore the muscle and snapped the tendon there, effectively disabling that leg. 

He fell to one knee and struck out with his knife. He felt it bite through the pelt to the flesh beneath, but only caught her flank. She snarled, not yelped, at the violation of her person. “Got you.” He grinned at her savagely and tried his best to turn to see her. But with his left leg out of commission, he couldn't move around fast enough before she repeated the tactic with the right, leaving him cobbled. He was on his knees now, yelling in pain and defiance as she clamped down on his left forearm as she had with the right, crushing and snapping the bones before using it to wrench him onto his back. 

He tried to turn over but the wolf was atop him. He saw the muzzle flash as it went down, but instead of tearing out his entire throat, she bit through and opened the carotid artery with near surgical precision. He was finished.

He eyes watched as the wolf's body shimmered and Charlie was in its place, naked and blood smeared as she knelt over him. “I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. My name is Charlotte Matheson, daughter of Benjamin and Rachel Matheson, and you will never. Touch. My. Mother. Again.”

Matheson. Rachel's daughter. Miles' niece. She was a Matheson.

Strausser chuckled weakly, tasting his blood in his mouth. “Is... is it really his? The child? Is it... Monroe's?”

She frowned down at him. “Of course their his. I'd know if I were fucking anyone else.”

He smiled. “G... good.” He made an attempt at swallowing, feeling weaker by the second. “Y... you're magnificent. They... will be.. as well.” And they would be. The Republic would pass on to good, strong hands if her children inherited even a quarter of the strength of their parents. The Monroe and Matheson families, united at last.

Charlotte stood up, watching his eyes as he died. She had been telling him the truth; they were nothing alike. She killed for a purpose, and her purpose this night was to keep his knives and tools away from Rachel Matheson. He had just never imagined that she would prove to be the better killer.

** Lowell, Indiana **

The dogs left shortly before Miles returned. He was carrying a dog whistle and assured them he had gotten rid of the man who had tried to kill her. Maggie was tired and weak, but still alive in spite of the massive blood loss. She choked down the last bit of the vile tea and let the bottle fall from her hand. She was so very tired.

“We'll secure the door and bunk here for the night. Let her rest up.”

“Miles, it could be days before she's ready to move.” Nora was helping Aaron move Maggie out of the bloody mess where she had been and putting her in a more comfortable position for sleeping. “She lost a lot of blood.”

“She'll be fine by morning. Hungry, too.” Miles glanced at the empty bottle. “Believe me.” He checked the kid's bonds before unwrapping his bedroll and sacking out. 

The night passed by without event. When they woke up it was to find Maggie already up and out of her bedroll. She had taken a seat in one of the old diner booths and was carefully snipping and pulling her sutures.

“Maggie!” Nora scrambled up out of her roll and rushed to stop her. 

“It's all right. They're healed.” Her voice was somewhat awe filled and disbelieving, but she was right. The sutures actually took a bit of a firm tug to free them from the skin that had closed around them. “The wound is fully healed.” The last suture came out and she set the tiny pair of scissors and the tweezers aside before looking at her hands. “The skin is a healthy shade of pink.” She squeezed one of her fingers and released it, watching the blood floor back in. “Capillary refill is excellent.”

The talking had awakened Miles who was watching the woman's expression. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

He got up. “Let me take a piss and I'll see about getting something together.” He walked over to the spy. “Come on, Nipples.” He hauled the boy up and walked him out the door, letting it swing shut behind them.

Maggie and Nora were both examining the wound site with confusion and wonder. Aaron got up, putting his glasses on so he could see. Sure enough, if it weren't for the blood dried on her clothes and the tiny red dots of blood where she had to pull a particularly stubborn suture, she didn't look as though she'd been hurt at all. “I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to heal like that.”

“No, we're not.” Maggie's voice was soft. She looked up and spied the bottle still on the floor where she had dropped it after she had drank the last of the tea. Getting up, she walked over and picked it back up, sniffing it curiously. “This is Charlie's blend. She used to make it at least once a week and give it to her dog. She only drank it herself... maybe once a month or so? And she'd make Danny drink it after a particularly nasty asthma attack. He always woke up the next day feeling right as rain, no residual exhaustion or weakness.”

Aaron looked at Maggie, then the bottle. “You think _that_ is what did it? When did Charlie learn something like that? Did you teach her?”

“No, I didn't.” Maggie's eyes seemed focused on a point out in the middle of nowhere. “Miles doesn't look right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Miles should be in his mid-forties. With fighting in wars before the Blackout and all the chaos and stress since, he should at least look his age, if not older. But he doesn't even look like he's gotten out of his twenties.”

Nora nodded. “She right. I hardly believed it was him first time I got a good look at him in the light. He looks younger than when we were together, and that was a little over five years ago.” She licked her lips. “He's in better shape, too. Back then all the injuries and strain was starting to slow him down. Now he's faster than before. Sharper.”

“The O'Sullivans.”

Aaron gave Maggie a confused look. “Atticus and Granuaille?”

“Who were the O'Sulllivan's?”

“They were a couple who settled in our town for a while. They had a mated pair of Irish Wolfhounds and the female was pregnant. They wanted a stable place for her to whelp. Great hunters and handy to have around. Charlie really took to them.”

Maggie shook her head. “Not just took to them; she listened to them. You and Ben had the hardest time getting her to pay attention to anything before they came along. He used to get so frustrated because he knew she bright, but she wouldn't apply herself.”

“But she did for them. In under a year they had her learning other languages, paying attention in my classes and started teaching her how to hunt and track.”

“They also worked with me on the herb garden. She'd be right there next to Granuaille as she explained what herbs were used for what ailments. Drilled her in the Latin names and origins. They did the same with her in the woods, showing her what plants could be harvested and used for the wild.”

Nora was looking between them. “So you think these O'Sullivan people taught her how to do this?”

Maggie frowned. “It had to be, but she didn't start making this tea until she came back.”

“Came back from where?”

Aaron nodded, remembering. “One day Atticus and Granuaille decided to move and Charlie said she was going along to help them get settled in. Ben forbade her to go, but she went anyway. We didn't see her for... at least eight months. Not a word. Then one day she came home, just her and Cuchulain.”

“Who's Cuchulain?”

Maggie stopped the bottle. “Her hound. One of the pups their dogs had. They gave her the male from the litter. Irish Wolf Hounds are massive creatures, taller than most men on their hind legs and formidable hunters.”

“She had the tattoos when she came back as well.”

“I certainly haven't forgotten that. Ben was livid.” Maggie glanced at Nora. “The O'Sullivans both had extensive tattoos down the right side of their bodies. Celtic knotwork designs. When Charlie came back from helping them relocate, she had the same tattoos. They go from her hand, up her right arm and then down the right side of her body to a final one on the bottom of the right heel. It must have taken most of the time she was gone to get them all done.”

“That's a lot of ink to get in that short of time. And the hand and the foot would have hurt like hell.” Nora sounded impressed. “Tough girl.”

“And vastly trying.” Maggie was still in think mode. “She didn't start making this tea until after she came back. Her entire demeanor was changed, somehow. Like she was a different person all together. Ben could never get her to talk about it.”

Nora peered at Maggie closely. “You know, I think you may be onto something. You look... different. A little bit younger. Not as dramatic a change as Miles, but definitely like some time has been taken off.”

Maggie blinked, then walked over to her pack. She found a small mirror she carried and checked. There did seem to be fewer crows feet around her eyes. She opened her mouth and aimed the mirror towards the back. “It's gone.”

“What's gone.” 

“I had a cavity starting in that back molar. I was waiting until it got through to the dentin before I pulled it, but the tooth is healthy again.” She put the mirror back. “To make such a difference in Miles, Charlie would have had to make him a good deal more of that tea.”

Aaron shrugged. “I saw him drinking from bottles like that one from time to time. I figured it was booze.”

“No, he hadn't even opened his whiskey bottle. I don't think we've seen him drink liquor since we left Chicago. That bottle of scotch he drank before we headed out.” Maggie smiled, apparently amused by a thought. “He said someone told him he should stop. I'd have told him the same thing if I'd worked that hard to undo whatever damage he'd wrought.”

“What?”

Maggie looked at Aaron. “That tea apparently restored my full blood volume after massive loss in under a day, as well as healed the wound and took out a few wrinkles. Miles said I'd be fine today. He knew what he was giving me, and what it would do. Charlie gave him the tea and convinced him to drink it. If he already had liver damage from drinking, that's likely been cured as well. Don't you see? She's likely saved his life, as well as given him more time to fix or atone for whatever had him crawling into a bottle in the first place.”

An expression that seemed almost like hope flittered over Nora's face, but it was banished almost immediately before the others could see it. Instead, she turned her head as Miles and the kid returned. They were carrying a few packs, the boy still with his arms secured in front of him. “What did you find?”

“That guy had been using his dogs to waylay passers by for some time.” He tossed a pack at Maggie. “I wasn't sure of your size, so I grabbed a few in the range I thought likely. There was also a couple of cases of MREs, so let's eat.”

Maggie looked through the pack and found it held several different pairs of pants to replace her bloodied and torn pair. She went behind the kitchen were she was out of sight and found a pair that would fit her. They were denim and still in good condition. She held onto a pair that was a size too large just so she'd have something to change into in a pinch. When she came back out, Miles had shown the others how to use the water activated heaters in the MREs to warm up their food. It was a welcomed change from whatever they could catch on the road and jerky, and actually enough to fill up their bellies for a change. Miles said something about they were only supposed to have a three year shelf-life, but they seemed fine, which made Maggie wonder just what type of preservatives the government had been using.

“So, everything okay?” Miles was looking at Maggie, but he didn't seemed concerned.

“You know it is.”

“And now you know why I want us to hurry this along and get to Philly. The sooner we pull Charlie and Danny out of there, the better.”

He was right, of course. If Monroe somehow got his hands on Charlie and figured out what she could do, it would be disastrous to everyone else. That brew could cut his field losses down to less than half. He could restore his most experienced and faithful soldiers back to the summer of their youth. The other republics wouldn't stand a chance against a nearly immortal force. 

That was why he took the boy with him and left them alone. He knew they would be talking about it, and he didn't want the spy to overhear too much. If he somehow got loose and back to Monroe, Charlie would find herself on the top of his list of people to be found. 

“I concur. The sooner, the better.”


	9. Chapter 9

** Philadelphia; Militia Stables **

“The kid here says you wanted to see me?”

Bass turned to see Atticus and the stable boy he'd sent to find him. “Yes, I do. One of my men went missing last night. A patrol found him this morning, dead. I was hoping you might be able to help identify what may have killed him.”

His hopefully-future-brother-in-law's brows went up. “'What' may have killed him? Weapon or actual killer?”

“Killer. We already know he wasn't shot, stabbed or strangled. He looks like he was... mauled.” He took a breath. “I would ask Charlie, but I don't want to upset her with something like this.”

Atticus let out a low whistle. “Man, if you want this thing between you and The Brat to work, you've got to stop trying to protect her. You'll only end up pissing her off and then she'll likely kneecap you for your troubles.” He offered Bass a smile. “However, I'm already here, so let's see your guy.”

Bass walked him up the hill to where Strausser's body lay, eyes staring blankly up into the canopy of the trees. The ground around him was dark from the dried blood and the once terrifying and formidable man looked... pathetic. His knife was a few feet away from him, likely dropped in his struggle to fight his killer.

Atticus crouched down next to the body. Bass watched him as he inspected the torn calves, the crushed and lacerated arms and the gaping wound on one side of his neck. The redheaded man brushed debris aside to looked at the prints in the ground that, to Bass, looked like canine tracks. He hoped that his fears weren't correct. “Well?”

Atticus sighed. “Well, I've got bad news and worse news.”

Bass' stomach clenched. “How so?”

“See this paw prints?” He pointed down at the marks in the ground. “They're mostly toes. And the way his arms were crushed, that would have taken something with a hell of a jaw strength.”

“Like a large dog?”

“No. No domesticated canine would have this much crushing power, and the prints would be fuller. No, these prints are indicative of a wolf. The large ones tend to walk and move mainly on their toes. Keeps them more agile and spares the pads of their feet. Your bigger ones, the Grays, can have up to fifteen hundred pounds per square inch in the crushing power department. That would be your Timbers up in Alaska and Canada and the ones out of Russia. Doubt you'd have a Russian wolf around here, but after a particularly bad couple of years and more than a decade since the Blackout, it's feasible that the US and Canadian Grays may have started making their way back down. They're actually shy around humans and tend to avoid us, so they could move back in and we might not even know it.”

The knot inside him unclenched. It hadn't been Cuchulain. Charlie hadn't set her dog on Strausser. “You think an actual wolf did this.”

“Certain of it.”

“So what's the worse news?”

“It isn't healthy.” Bass looked at him curiously, so Atticus explained. “The calves were ripped away from the body, but not torn completely off. It snapped the Achilles tendons to keep him from being able to get away. Likewise with the arms; they are crushed, the lacerations are from the teeth, but there's little to no flesh torn away. And the throat wasn't torn out, it was sliced just on one major vessel to ensure death. That's not how a healthy wolf would kill. A healthy animal would have ended him quickly, going for the throat and ripping it out at the first opportunity, and then it would have started to eat. A hungry wolf can eat up to twenty pounds of meat in a single meal, so there should be more flesh missing than what we see here. The teethmarks where there is flesh missing are those of smaller carrion feeders.”

“It's sick? Rabid?”

“I doubt it, but mentally ill. Which may explain why it's alone. The pack would have cast it out, or it may have just left. But it will be unpredictable. It may stay in the area or it may have already moved on.”

“Great.” Bass looked down at Strausser's dead body. “So we've got an insane, homicidal wolf wandering around.”

“Looks like. Then again, it could have moved on already.” Atticus scanned the area. “Just to be certain, some trackers should scout the area. Keep them in groups of at least three, so they can watch each others backs. Wolves are naturally shy around humans, but this one isn't playing with a full deck and won't follow that pattern.”

Bass nodded and gave the order to one of the men nearby. The others were to collect Strausser's body and take it to the morgue. “Thank you, Atticus.”

“No problem. Sorry about your guy.”

“So am I. He was my best interrogator. Got a lot of intel that saved a lot of lives.”

Atticus toed the large knife lying several feet from the body. “Was he the kind of man who'd be dumb enough to try to get into a fight with a wolf?”

“Definitely.” He shook it off. He had planned to let Strausser 'talk' with Rachel tonight, but that was off the table. Now he would just wait until Neville delivered Danny. “I hope I didn't pull you out of bed too early.”

“Granuaille grumbled about it, then she just rolled over and went back to sleep.” He shrugged. “The dogs barely noticed. They were too busy being all warm and toasty together.”

“Breeding pair?”

“Cuchulain's parents, but we try not to let them breed too often. We've got an herbal concoction that is basically doggie birth control for Orla. No need for her to have a litter every time she comes into heat.”

“They're impressive dogs. I've grown quite fond of Cuchulain.” He started walking back to towards the city with Atticus by his side, his guard surrounding them. “I wouldn't mind a pup if you decide to let them breed again.”

“I'll keep you in mind, though you might be better off with a grown bitch for Cuchulain. I could find you one, and Charlie knows how to brew the same concoction.”

“That's an idea.” They walked a little while longer before Bass spoke again. “How are you finding Philadelphia?” Atticus chuckled. “What?”

“Guests are like fish; after three days they both start to stink.”

That made him laugh. “No, nothing like that. I'm planning to ask your sister to marry me. As her family, I thought you should have a heads up so you could stick around if she says 'yes'.” He wasn't entirely sure that she would, she was still skittish about commitment. 

“Wow. I'm not really sure how she'd respond to that offer. But, you've got a better shot at it than most. And Granuaille wouldn't mind sticking around. She doesn't like the idea of Charlie being alone during the pregnancy. It's a girl thing.”

“I don't mind, believe me. I'm not entirely comfortable with how active Charlie continues to be, especially if she's right about it being twins.”

Atticus studied him. “What's on your mind?”

Bass drew in a breath and let it go slowly. “A few years after the Blackout I was with someone, her name was Shelly. We were expecting, and everything seemed to be going well. One moment, everything was fine, the next she was hemorrhaging out and I lost them both, her and our son. Ever since I figured out Charlie was pregnant, that day keeps coming back to me, all the blood and watching her healthy and fine one moment, gone the next.” He shook himself. “I don't want the same thing to happen to Charlie.”

“Ah. Have you told Charlie this?”

Bass shook his head. “I suspected she was pregnant, but I didn't want to call her out on it. I was hoping she'd tell me when she felt ready, and she did. Finally told me she was falling in love with me the same time.”

“And you?”

“I've been in love with her since within two weeks after we met. She has a way of getting under your skin.”

“Yeah, like a chigger.”

Bass laughed. “Ah, the love of a sibling.” He chuckled a little more. “No, but seriously, I think it would be better for Charlie if the two of you stuck around. If she agrees to marry me, I'd like for you to be there with us. And she would probably feel more comfortable having Granuaille here during the pregnancy. She hasn't really made a lot of close female friends since coming to town.”

“That shouldn't be hard. Granuaille was thinking much the same thing.”

“Glad to hear it, but there's no need for you to be stuck in Liberty Hall. The house next to it is empty. It belonged to General Matheson when he was still with the Militia. I've never given it to anyone else for use. I can have it aired out and ready for you two to move in by tomorrow afternoon. Fully staffed as well.”

“Mighty neighborly of you.”

Bass smiled a bit, looking off towards the training yards as they walked. “Yeah, well, I'm not being completely selfless. I know being in the city makes Charlie antsy. I hate that I'm not enough to keep her happy...”

“Don't take that personally. These days it's hard for you to know who you can trust.” Atticus' face twisted as though he'd tasted something bitter. “For what it's worth, she really does give a damn about you, and that's at least half of her skittishness. I don't recall her ever having a crush or teenage romance. I don't think she knows how to respond.”

“There was at least one someone.”

“Yeah... she approached sex very pragmatically. Turned to a much older friend of the family. Neither of them were in it for keeps. She just wanted to learn.”

That took Bass by surprise. “She... approached it like a lesson?”

“Yep. My wife was pissed when she found out. Not that Charlie had sex, but that she was only seventeen and the guy was... much older.” He gave a shrug. “I didn't see what the big deal was. He was someone we could trust not to hurt her. Better him than some random passerby, and someone her own age likely would have fumbled the entire thing and put her off the idea. I was impressed by how logically she approached the entire thing.”

“That's... and odd way for a brother to look at things.”

“Why? She's going to have sex sooner or later. She knew that. I knew that. Hell, I even like the guy she chose. She could have picked a lot worse.”

“So who was this guy?”

Atticus smiled at that. “Not gonna tell you. You'll only end up obsessing over it. You won. He's in her past, and it's starting to look like you're her future.” The smile turned into a smirk. “I wish you luck with that. She's a handful.”

** On the road to Philadelphia ** 

“Miles?” Maggie waited until he glanced in her direction. “Do you know why the Militia wanted Ben?” She was aware of Aaron's eyes on her. They had agreed not to tell anyone about the pendant, and she wouldn't. She just wanted to know more.  
Miles grimaced. “Ben tell you he was an Algebra teacher before the Blackout?” He saw her nod of affirmation. “Well, that's bullshit. Ben and Rachel both worked for the Department of Defense. Something they were working on, something they made... that's what caused the Blackout.”

Maggie frowned. “Are you certain?”

Even Nora was paying attention now. “Ben called me five seconds before the lights when out to warn me it was coming. Had been trying to get hold of me for a while, but Bass and me were at a bar and I didn't hear the call. That's why we were looking for them.”

“You were looking for Ben?”

“I was. Tracked them down, maybe seven years later. He was my brother, so I invited him to join me. Gave him time to pack up the family to bring them along or say goodbye. But it wasn't Ben who showed up; it was Rachel.”

“Whoa! Wait a minute.” They all stopped and Miles looked at Aaron. “You're the reason Rachel disappeared? You're the one who took her from her kids?”

Miles licked his lips, giving his head a single shake. “Yeah, that was me. Went back to the house to get Ben but he and the kids were already gone. And Rachel wasn't talking. Probably why she came instead of him. Ben was a good man, but he wasn't the strongest one in that marriage. He would have caved, given us what we wanted. Rachel never did.”

“Wow. I really was right when I said you raise dickishness to a new level.”

“Yeah, well, tell me something I don't already know.”

Nora was watching him. “What happened to Rachel?”

“There was an accident. I wasn't there. I was out in the field at the time. When I got back, she was dead. Bass had the morgue hold the body until I could get there. She was... her face was almost completely gone, most of her hair, but it was her.” Miles knew his eyes were tearing, but he was a master at not letting them fall. “I buried her in Philly.”

Nora leveled a look his way. “An accident. And you believed that because Monroe told you?”

“Why would he lie? He knew Rachel was family. He knew we'd never get Ben to come in without her.”

“Maybe because he didn't want the competition for your attentions? Miles, he barely tolerated you keeping me around.”

The idea had crossed his mind a time or two, but he'd always dismissed it. He dismissed it now. “No, Bass wouldn't do that to me. Not then. We were still solid, then.”

“Meaning it was before you tried to kill him and then deserted the Militia.” Nora shook her head. “I don't think you fully appreciate just how possessive he was of you, Miles. He was jealous of anything that took your attention from him. And he was lethal when it came to anyone who threatened you. Remember the bomber?”

Miles' jaw clenched. “Of course I remember. That was what pushed me into leaving.”

Maggie frowned. “What bomber?” When Miles didn't answer, Nora filled them in.

“Monroe took Miles out to celebrate his birthday. A rebel bomber hit the restaurant they were in, the blast almost killed miles. Monroe had the bomber tracked down and had him killed, but not just him. He also had his wife and their three children executed as well.”

Miles was looking off towards the direction of Philadelphia. “That's what finally made me realize how far he'd slipped. How far off the rails he'd gone.” He resettled his pack. “That was when I started plotting to kill him.”

“But you failed.” Maggie studied him a moment longer. “No, you didn't fail. You couldn't do it. You weren't just friends; you were tighter than blood. You couldn't kill him, anymore than you could kill Ben.”

“Yeah, well, that's enough reminiscing. Let's keep moving. Come on, Nipples.” Miles pushed Jason back into walking, following close behind him. 

** Philadelphia, Liberty Hall ** 

Danny was glad to have the shackles off. It wasn't like he could go anywhere. This place was locked up tighter than any place he'd ever seen or heard of. The soldiers here carried serious firepower, not just the muskets and muzzle loaders the ones at the local garrison back home had. He wouldn't have a chance of escaping as long as the guards were watching him. He'd have to wait.

Neville escorted him down a hall until they came to a set of double doors. One of the guards knocked sharply and a muffled “Come,” responded. The doors were opened for them and Neville walked him into the office of President Monroe.

It was well appointed and neatly arranged, but Danny had little interest in that. The man behind the desk looked up as they entered. “Danny Matheson.” He came out from behind the desk, hands clasping behind his back. “I knew your father. I'm sorry about what happened. That was not how I wanted things to work out. Believe me, Captain Neville will be dealt with.”

A massive form got up from its spot in front of the hearth, catching Danny's attention just as Monroe said “I see your mother in you.” and moved to walk back to his desk. Danny barely managed to keep himself from calling out to the hound, instead opting for “You knew my mother?”

The dog trotted over towards them, his massive head sniffing Danny's hands curiously. He dared to reach out and scratch Cuchulain between his ears. The hound wouldn't go anywhere without Charlie, which meant his sister was in Philadelphia. What the hell was she up to?

“You got a dog, Sir?”

Monroe looked at the animal with a faint smile. “Sort of. He belongs to my fiance. Well, the woman I hope will agree to become my fiance. I'm waiting until the jeweler has the ring done before I actually ask her.” He walked over and took a couple of sausage links from a covered dish on his desk. “Magnificent, isn't he? His name is Cuchulain. He can be fearsome when he wants to be, but he's actually quite friendly.” He tossed the sausages to Cuchulain who caught them in mid-air with ease. “Take him back to his room, please.”

Danny turned away from Cuchulain, wishing he could take the hound with him but he didn't want to ruin anything Charlie had in play by letting Monroe know he was familiar with the dog. He was walking away when Monroe spoke up again. “And Danny, just remember you're my guest. Anything you want, food, women, anything, just ask. Okay?”

Yeah, Danny really hoped Charlie had her sword nice and sharp for this one. He wasn't as blind as their father had been. He knew she had been up to something with those three and four day hunting trips. He'd heard the whispers from the garrison soldiers when they came to collect the taxes about how squads had vanished. He'd never known how Charlie was doing it, but he had absolute faith in his sister. If she was here in the city, had Monroe so hooked he actually believed she'd marry him, then she was in this building, waiting for him to be brought in.

Neither man was aware that upstairs, in the suite of rooms Monroe shared with her, Charlie was brushing out her hair after her bath. She knew the exact moment that Danny had been brought in to see Monroe, because Cuchulain had practically shouted it through their mental link. Everything was falling into place. Now the tricky part was about to begin.

Charlie set down the brush and placed a hand on her lower stomach, just now starting to bow outwards a bit from the new lives growing inside. Her original plan of just grabbing her brother and running was out of the question now. Now she'd have to put her own heart on the line and give Bass a choice. She hoped he made the right one.


	10. Chapter 10

“This would be so much easier if we could communicate telepathically.”

“I’ve only known one person who could do that, and she didn’t get it in any traditional manner.”

Charlie turned her head towards her teacher/brother. “Who?”

“The Morrigan. She used sex magic to form the bond.”

“Sex magic?” Granuaille arched a copper brown at her husband.

“It was before we were an item, I swear. And she wasn’t exactly a gentle lover. I looked like I had lost a fight with a herd of cats afterwards. But she did grow my ear back.”

Charlie frowned. “I thought Jesus grew your ear back.”

“That was the second time I lost one. The Morrigan did the first one.”

She nodded at that. “You know, anyone overhearing this conversation would think we’re either crazy or high.”

“The human mind has myriad ways to ignore the supernatural.” Atticus tossed back his shot of whisky. It was his own brew, and better than anything the bars here had to offer. He’d popped back to Ireland the night before and gotten some provisions. “Now, I know your brother pretty well, but I have no connection to your mother. I won’t be able to just pull her thru to Tir na nOg to get her out of reach. We’ll have to run with them. Fortunately, Fairmont has some lovely caves around here that will allow us to take up shelter and she’s willing to help hide us. Granuaille and I have been preparing a couple different onces.”

Charlie nodded. “The tricky part will be getting them out of the house. I spoke to Mom about that. She’s going to ask to meet with Danny at the park. They’ll be under guard, but the guard won’t be expecting anything like the two of you.”

“And what will you be doing?”

She sighed. “I’ll be with Sebastian, preparing to hit him over the head with a clue bat and give him a hard and fast primer that they are not alone and he isn’t the top of the food chain as he thought. I’ll probably have to come clean about being the one who killed Strausser.”

“That might set him at ease or scare him worse.”

“He either accepts me as I am and drops this nonsense about turning the power back on or he doesn’t accept it and I meet up with you in Ireland. Simple as that.”

She felt Granuaille’s concerned gaze on her before the other woman spoke. “Do you think you can do that? Walk away?”

“It will hurt like hell, but it will be necessary. I think we’re all in agreement that the power needs to stay off. Sure there were a lot of good things; the vaccines, indoor plumbing and clean water, air conditioning during the summer months so that people were less likely to die from heat exhaustion, but mankind was so much more destructive back then as well. The Earth is healing, now that her children can’t do so much damage, but it’s slow going.”

“Yeah, well, Gaia still chats about the Paleolithic period as though it happened last week. Time means little to her.”

Charlie turned her face towards Atticus, her head still leaning against the tree behind her. “We need to train more Druids.”

“We’ve been thinking about that.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Granuaille and I have been talking about moving back to this continent where there’s less interference from old gods and fairies. I’ve been talking to Owen as well. He’s still out in what was Arizona with Hal’s pack. He and Greta are still an item, but the pack has been talking about switching out with one of the groups in a more arboreal area. He has an idea about how we can maximize our training methods, and I think it’s a good one.”

“What’s the plan?”

Atticus shrugged. “There are a lot of orphans and foundlings around. Kids whose parents have been killed, died from disease or starvation or have just been abandoned. Young ones, too. Greta has a bit of a soft spot for children, probably because a female werewolf can’t carry to term thanks to the stresses the shift puts on the body. The idea is to build a settlement and start taking in these kids. Start teaching them. Young minds pick up new languages quickly. We start laying down the academic basics when they’re young, and when they’re old enough to decide if they want to be Druids or not, they’ve already got some of the book work done. We could probably shave off two or three years that way, and teach multiple initiates at once.”

“What about the ones who choose not to be Druids?”

“There are a lot of old world skills that are in demand again. Weaving, various schools of smithing, glass works, stone masonry, carpentry. A lot of things people forgot to do because factories did all the work. Not to mention brewing. After two thousand years I have a lot of different skills I can teach and we know how to find those who have the same skills and can tell who we can trust to come with us.”

“So… .setting up a sort of artisan colony-slash-orphanage-slash –academy.” She pondered that. “I like it. At least I know where I’ll be headed if Bass makes the wrong choice.”

“You’d be more than welcome, though I doubt he’ll screw this up. The guy is hooked hard, and I think if he has to make a choice, he’s going to choose his family over power.”

“I hope you’re right. I don’t particularly look forward to having my heart ripped from my chest if he doesn’t.”

“We’ll be here for you if he screws up.” Atticus gave her a fond smile. “Personally, I’m hoping he decides to ditch the republic all together and come with you to join us. There are a lot of kids needing a safe home to go to, and trained Druids are in scarce supply. Having you with us would be helpful and he’d be good to have for combat training and strategy. For all that he is a dictatorial jackass, he’s a clever one. Hal and Owen could beat the high and mighty out of him.”

She winced. “Yeah, if he does choose his family over power, I’d kind of like to keep him in one piece. An alpha werewolf and a big ass black bear might now know when to stop.”

“We wouldn’t let them kill him. A kid needs his father.” He nudged her with a foot. “So when do you think this will go down?”

“Either tonight or tomorrow night. I have Chuculain spending most of his days around Bass. He can tell Oberon and Orla when it’s happening.”

“Good move. Bass asked me about possibly getting a hound of his own. I told him a female would be a better choice, that way Chuculain would have a bitch. He seemed open to the idea.”

“Let’s wait and see if I’m going to be able to make this relationship work, first. I still don’t know for sure how far gone this guy is.” She studied her mentor. “You haven’t gotten on to me abut Strausser.”

“Don’t have to.”

“I thought you said that the proper way to consider people who annoy you is to remember that ‘You, too, shall die’.”

“And if it was just you he was creeping out, that’d be the right way to go about it. However, he was going to play some rather sick games with your mother. That changes the rules. By killing him you saved her additional pain and humiliation, possibly even permanent physical impairment. I would have done the same thing. Hell, I would have already killed that Neville guy.”

“Thought about it, but ultimately decided against it. For now, at least. If I have to make an example, I will, but for now my primary objective is to get Mom and Danny out of the Militia’s custody.”

“Then it’s all hands on deck. We’ll get them out. Don’t worry.”

~***~

“Even if what you say is true, why should we work with you?”

Miles spit out a bit of blood that had collected in his mouth. “Because I know him. I know where he eats. I know the women he bangs. I can hand him right to you and you know I can.”

The Colonel, yes, the Rebels were using military ranks now, it was adorable, walked up to him. “I’m still not convinced that you’re Miles Matheson. I mean, shouldn’t you be kissing the south side of fifty by now?”

“I’m remarkably well preserved.”

“I see.” The sergeant came inside the room, a lean man with white hair. He studied Matheson as if trying to weigh him mentally. “So you say that Monroe has your niece and nephew, and you need to get into the city to get them back out. Why come to us?”

“Because there’s only a few places he can be holding them. All heavily guarded and nearly impossible to get into. You guys go after Monroe and that will draw men off those places so I can get in. Do whatever you want with him, just get me my window of opportunity.”

The sergeant frowned. “What does your niece look like?”

Miles frowned. “What?”

“You’re niece. This ‘Charlie’, what does she look like?”

“About twenty. Blond hair, blue eyes, travels with an Irish wolf hound that’s almost as big as she is.”

The man nodded. “Extensive tattoos down the right side of her body?”

Miles stilled. “Yes.”

The other man smirked. “She’s not being held prisoner. She’s sleeping with Monroe.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. Been going on for a few months now. She’s taken over their canine program and she spends her night in the President’s suite. Our intel indicates they’re quite the happy couple. Some of it points to her being pregnant.”

Miles closed his eyes. “Idiot.” He shook his head. “I knew she moved fast. I didn’t think she’d get here this far ahead of us.” He shook his head again. “It’s a ruse. She’s playing Monroe for the fool. She needs his guard down so he doesn’t expect it when she makes the move to get her brother out. She probably hasn’t even told him who she really is.”

The sergeant nodded. “That I believe. She goes by Charlene O’Sullivan.” Something in Miles’ face must have given him again. “You know that name.”

“I’ve heard ‘O’Sullivan’ before. Apparently they were her teachers, the people who taught her how to fight. Doesn’t matter. I can’t have Charlie in Monroe’s hands. None of us can afford that.”

That piqued the colonel’s interest. “Why not?”

“It’s not something I can share. Just believe me when I tell you that Charlie being in Monroe’s control is the last thing any of us need. She knows things. Things that would give him the type of edge none of us could stand up to. My niece is one spooky bitch.”

They eventually agreed to help with the rescue attempt. Miles still wasn’t hopeful, it would be a handful of kids against men he trained himself.

“You look terrible.” Maggie’s soft British lilt had a soothing quality all its own and he let her guide him to a chair to start patching up his injuries.

“It’s all part of the charm.”

She shook her head and went to work. “The rebels have intelligence that say Charlie’s sleeping with Monroe.” The doctor’s hands stilled. “That she might even be pregnant.”

“No, she wouldn’t do that. Monroe’s men killed Ben. They took Danny.”

“I would have, in her place. Hell, Nora has done it.”

Nora nodded. “Get him to let his guard down. Get close to the mark, let him come to trust and care for you, then he doesn’t see the knife until after you’ve slipped it between his ribs. If she has managed to do that, then she’s inside his headquarters. She’ll be in a good place to know what’s going on.”

“And when Neville arrived with Danny. Now she’s just waiting for the right time to get him out.”

Maggie shook her head, blinking back tears. “That damn girl. She always did have a problem with charging in head first. She has no idea what she’s getting herself into.”

Miles gave a mirthless snort. “I wouldn’t bet on that, Doc. I think she’s been showing you a mask for some time, now. I bet I got a glimpse of the real Charlie Matheson when she showed up at my bar in Chicago. That girl… that girl has seen far too much violence. Too much blood shed. Just because you and Ben never saw her do it doesn’t mean she wasn’t killing people. She as much as admitted to doing it. She’d been making Militia units disappear probably for the past couple of years. Doing her best to keep her family hidden.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“This world makes people hard, Maggie. Charlie’s a product of the Blackout. She’s learned what she needed to learn to make her strong. I loved my brother, maybe not as well as I should have, but I did. But we both know Ben, as good a man as he was, he was no fighter. He preferred peace. Rachel was gone. Danny’s own body would betray him at the most inopportune times. Who did that leave to pick up the slack? To be the family protector? I’m betting that Charlie takes after Rachel, and Rachel was one scary ass bitch. Believe me.”

“But to be willing to commit cold blooded murder? Charlie’s not like that.”

“Everyone is like that, Maggie. Every last one of us. And is it really murder if you’re doing it to protect your family?” A sad smile crossed his features. “In another time, when I was still General Matheson, I would have snatched someone like Charlie up in a heart beat. Would have been proud to have someone that strong and that willing to go the extra mile to get the job done working for me. Bass… I doubt he has any idea what he’s been sharing his bed with. If push comes to shove, it wouldn’t surprise me if she slit his throat, father of her unborn child or not. I just want to get to her before it gets that far. That’s something you shouldn’t have on your conscience.”

Maggie finished with the last cut. “I hope you’re wrong, Miles. I don’t want to think that Charlie may have fallen that far.”

“Don’t think of it as falling, Maggie. Think of it as protecting. She’s protecting all of us. Me by giving me this second chance. Danny by being willing to get in bed with her enemy to win him over. All of us by trying to get Danny out of Philly so we don’t have to.”

Nora had been silent, listening. “Miles, why go into the city? It sounds like Charlie’s in the most opportune place to get the job done.”

“Because she’s one woman and her oversized hound against hundreds, if not thousands, of trained soldiers. I know these men, Nora. And I know Bass. He won’t kill her, not if she’s pregnant. Family means to much to him. He’ll want that child to be born, safe and healthy. So she’s at least got until she comes to term, but eventually she’ll get to ungainly to fight. She’ll have to make her move before her balance is thrown completely out of whack. One woman against the militia? She’ll need the backup. It’s better if we go in and help get them both out.”

“Do you think we can?”

“The odds are better now that we know Charlie’s gotten herself set up in Monroe’s house. She’ll have the inside track. That’s always a good thing to have.”

** Independence Hall, Philadelphia **

“Come in.”

Neville talked in, his expression pinched. Bass arched a brow. “Something the matter, Tom?”

“Yes, Sir. Possibly.” He took a folded piece of paper from the inside of his uniform jacket and approached the desk. “This just came in. It’s from a spy we have inside the Rebels, working with the higher officers. I thought you’d want to see it immediately.”

Bass took the missive and unfolded it. He went still as his eyes took in the neat, precise script.

_Charlene O’Sullivan is Charlotte Matheson, sister of Danny Matheson. Miles Matheson has reached the rebel base to seek assistance in getting them out of the city. We move the night after tomorrow night._

Bass swallowed, keeping his expression stoic as she folded the note. “How well do you trust this operative?”

“Wheatly is one of our best, Sir.”

He gave a slow nod. “Say nothing about this, to anyone. I’ll deal with this matter personally.”

Neville nodded in response. “As you wish, Sir.”


	11. Chapter 11

Bass was sitting behind his desk, his drink forgotten as he pondered things.

Charlie was Charlotte. Rachel's Charlotte. Ben's Charlotte. Little Charlie with the skinned up knees that had been incongruous with her ballet slippers that summer Miles had drug him home, unwilling to trust him not to eat his gun. 

Mile's niece. 

She was passionate, strong, fierce and she was carrying his child. Maybe more than one.

Then who the fuck were Atticus and Granuaille O'Sullivan and how did she know them? The affection between the three was genuine. Her teachers? The ones who taught her how to fight and hunt? How to handle animals? Those tattoos they all bore, were they part of a war clan of some kind? 

She was still a puzzle to him. She of the enigmatic smiles, dogs too well trained to be believed and the fucking never-ending glass of orange juice.

What the hell had happened to that little ballerina-Tom boy he'd met before the world had gone dark?

He couldn't lose her. He wouldn't lose her. If she was really Charlotte Matheson, he'd just have to find a way a fix this fuck up. He hadn't wanted Ben to die. Neville had grabbed Danny because he couldn't come back empty handed, not because of any order from him. If she'd come here for her brother, he'd give him to her. Danny was born with health problems, he doubted that had completely changed. With Ben gone and Rachel here, he could provide for all the boy's needs. 

He could ensure that he stayed healthy and strong, reunite Charlie with her mother and brother. That would prove awkward. Rachel hadn't had an easy time of it since Miles had left, and most of it was his fault. He'd have to hope there was a strong enough foundation between himself and Charlie that she would be able to forgive him. To give him a chance to prove his sincerity. Maybe she could even help him convince her mother to turn the power back on.

The door to his office opened and she walked through. Young. Golden. Perfect.

"How'd you manage privacy this early? We're usually chasing people out this close to dinner."

"I wanted to think." He tapped his fingers on the folder before him. "A rather, interesting report came in."

"Oh?" She hung up her scarlet cloak as Cuchulain trotted over to cadge a snack. Bass obliged him by giving him a few of the sausage treats Cook made for the hound daily. "Good or bad?"

"I'm not certain, yet." He turned the folder around and pushed it to the other edge of the desk. "Tell me your thoughts."

He watched her as she picked up the folder and opened it. He watched her face for some change of expression as she read the missive from Wheatly. She didn't even blink. "Well, my first thought is that Miles needs to learn how to listen. I told him to stay away from Philly." She shut the folder and dropped it back on the desk, meeting his eyes without hesitation.

"No denials?"

She shrugged. "Why should I? Actually, I was planning to talk to you about this tonight anyway."

That was a bit hard to swallow. "Tonight. You were actually going to come clean about being Charlotte Matheson tonight?"

"Yes." There was no guile in her eyes. "I mean, I didn't really expect things to go this far. You and me, I mean. You were supposed to...get bored. Move on to the next conquest. I just wanted you complacent with my presence in the city so you didn't think too hard about it when I busted out Danny. I wasn't supposed to develop feelings for you." She paused, then gave a little roll of her eyes. "I sure as hell wasn't supposed to turn up pregnant, but there you go."

Bass wanted to believe her. He wanted to, desperately. But Matheson's had betrayed him before. "Who are Atticus and Granuaille? Who are they, really?"

"My teachers. Atticus more than Granuaille, but both had a hand in it."

"Your teachers? What, the ones who taught you how to use a sword? How to fight?"

"Taught me everything." She gave him one of those funny smiles of hers. "We should take a walk."

He arched a brow at her. "A walk?"

"Yes, Bass, a walk. Now, while there's still some light left and before it gets so cold you won't let me outside without one hundred layers of clothes on." She tilted her head to one side. "Come on. I won't even carry so much as a knife."

Bass flicked his eyes over to the hound. He seemed friendly enough, but he was her hound. "Cuchulain stays here?"

The dog whined, but Charlie nodded. "He stays here." He whined again. "Sorry, Baby, but you are rather dangerous when you need to be. We won't be gone long. Have a couple more treats and we'll be home in time for dinner." Bass watched as she bent down and gave the hound a good scratching behind his ears and a kiss on his scruffy forehead. She stood back up, meeting his eyes. "Let's go out thru the kitchen. I need an apple."

She was confusing him. His brain told him not to trust her, to take a guard, but his instincts told him to just take the walk. He wanted to trust her, so he held his elbow out for her to take and escorted her thru the kitchen where she took an apple from a basket of them Cook kept on the counter.

"So, where are we walking to?"

"Towards the stables. To the training field, actually. Nice, wide open space. Plenty of room there." The sun was starting it's slow descent towards the horizon. 

"We need room?"

"If I'm going to come completely clean, yes. We'll need the room." She carried the apple in her other hand, her off hand swinging gently.

"I thought you needed that apple."

"I do. When we get to the field."

"So, we're walking to build up your appetite?" He nodded to a group of soldiers headed the other direction.

"No, we're going for a presentation. You wanted to know who the O'Sullivan's are. It'd be easier to show you. It'll make more sense that way."

"You know, I'm really trying to wrap my head around this. I mean, you've been lying to me since the beginning. And I'm starting to think you targeted me from that very first night."

She took a breath and nodded. "And I did. But, as I said before, you were supposed to get bored and move on. I mean, you have the reputation of being something of a man whore. I figured, one week, two tops, you'd be on to the next girl. Instead, you...kept having me over for dinner. Asked me to move in. Kept finding ways to try to keep me close." She shrugged. "I kept trying to keep my eye on the goal, on getting Danny back. Kept reminding myself that you were the one who kept sending those men looking for Dad and are, ultimately, the reason he's dead. But, somehow you still managed to carve a place out for yourself, and you settled in hard. And it's not just hormones talking. I checked. It's you."

Some tight little knot inside himself started to loosen just a bit. "I did."

"Yeah, you did." She shook her head. "Jackass."

A chuff of laughter escaped him. "Yeah, you sound really smitten."

"Well, excuse me if I don't care for having my plans derailed this way. You don't react any better to same type of thing, General Gotta-Have-My-Way. Like telling the guards at city gates that I don't have traveling privileges just to try to keep me from bolting." He blinked. "Yeah, I know about that."

"How?" 

She grinned. "All is about to be explained." They took the turn off towards the field. "You're a Civil War buff, right? What do you know about Roman history? Pre-Christian and Christian?"

"Military history, a lot. The Roman Empire was one of the greatest military powers in world history. The generals and tactics have been studied and used by military leaders ever since. I use them."

"Because they were literate and wrote things down. That gave them a hell of an edge over some of their competition. Allowed them to use propaganda and misinformation to great effect."

"Another tactic of theirs that's still used today."

"And it worked. They used it against the Druids with great results."

Huh? "The Druid? Aesthetics with long beards and worshipped trees?"

"As I said; with great results." She grumbled the words out before forcing her voice back to normal. "Wise men who were the servants and champions of the Earth and who served as counsellors and advisors to kings and warriors. And who could kick butt in a fight themselves. Their people trusted and listened to them, which, if you're trying to take over a population, you don't want." They had reached the field. It was empty this late, training done for the day. Charlie unthreaded her arm from his and offered the apple. "Cut this for me?"

Bass took the apple and pulled out his combat knife. It wasn't hard to cut the apple in half. She took one of the halves and slipped out of her shoes. "What are you doing? The ground has got to be freezing."

"Don't worry. I hate shoes, anyway. I only only wear them because people look at you funny if you don't." She stepped a few feet away before crouching down. "Now, try to hold any freak outs in check until the entire demonstration is complete."

Bass frowned, puzzled. "Okay. I'll do my best."

Charlotte began to speak in a language he didn't recognize, the half of an apple set onto the ground before her. Bass watched, growing more and more confused. "Charlotte, what..." His breath stopped. The ground opened up and the apple half settled into the niche that had just appeared. 

"Anyway," she started as though that hadn't just happened, "the Romans, the pre-Christian Romans, had a lot of help in the purge of the Druids. The idea wasn't solely theirs, they were influenced by another party we won't get into right now. But Minerva, their goddess of wisdom, and a cheap knock off of the Greek goddess Athena, helped them by giving them the ability to see thru the Druids' ability to bend light around themselves into a sort of camouflage."

Bass watched as the beginnings of a sapling began to grow from the apple half. It stretched upwards, growing taller as he watched in stunned silence. "They were encouraged to burn the sacred groves which effectively trapped the Druids on the European continent. You see, the trees were bound to the Tir na nOg, the Irish planes of the afterlife, and were how the Druids supposedly ' teleported' from one place to another."

The sapling continued to grow. With the speed in which it was moving upwards he could actually _hear_ it growing. "Fortunately the pre-Christian Roman Empire imploded before it reached Ireland, the last bastion of Druidry." Branches began to sprout from the main trunk. "Unfortunately, they converted. To Chistianity. And gave birth to The Church, who then sent Patrick, later to be canonized into Saint Patrick, to the Emerald Isle."

The tree continued to grow, the trunk thickened, the branches growing longer and sprouting off shoots of their own. "Bass?" He pulled his eyes down to meet hers, the tree now taller than she was, "Pay attention. I'm spilling a lot of secrets here. This is important."

Roman history was important? She was growing a tree!

"Now, it usually takes about twelve years of study to become a druid. Technically I did it in ten and a half, but Atticus still made me wait the additional eighteen months just to be sure I'd stopped growing. You see, after the twelve years of academics there is another five to six months to get your tattoos done. That's what it takes to become a druid. And here's the emissary of The Church offering absolution by simply saying 'I'm sorry' for every bad thing you've ever done and getting sprinkled with water. If you were an illiterate tween two thousand tears ago, which would you pick? The Church finished what the Pagan Romans failed to do through attrition; wiped out the Druids. Or so they thought. They missed one."

The branches spread out wide. Bass watched as the tree budded out into blossoms, then as the blossoms fell off to allow for apples to grow and ripen. Charlotte reached up with a slender hand and plucked one of the ruby fruits. "Just one. One man. One lone survivor who had already been given the secret to immortality by one of the Tuatha de. A single druid who was born before Christ and who would survive to see mankind rise up to power to the point they would seriously threaten the Earth only to have that power snatched away from them." She offered him the apple. "That is who Atticus O'Sullivan really is."

Bass blinked and tore his eyes from the apple. "You're telling me that Atticus...you're saying he's over two thousand years old? That he taught you how to," he waved at the tree, lit from behind by the sunset, "do that?"

Charlie smirked, pulling back the apple and taking a bite out of it. Juice sparkled on her lips as she chewed, then swallowed before offering it back to him. "See? Perfectly safe. Just and apple."

"You just grew a tree from seed to fruition in...was that even five minutes?"

"Four minutes and forty-seven seconds."

"Oh, of course. Can't forget those crucial thirteen seconds." Bass ran his fingers thru his hair. His heart was hammering in his chest. From the corner of his eye he saw her hand holding the apple lower.

"Okay, if you're going to do the whole freak out and run away screaming thing, I'd appreciate it if you did it sooner rather than later." He heard her draw a breath. "This is kind of why people like me usually don't tell this type of thing to people like you. Normal people."

"Normal people?" He looked at her. She looked...vulnerable. Uncertain. He'd never seen her look that way.

"Yeah, normal. It's sad, but...Humanity forgot that magic is real." She gestured at the tree. "Life creates it. Belief creates it." She shrugged. "Faith creates it. The universe is exactly the size you believe it to be. All the gods are real, as are all the monsters. Legends are almost always born from real events and people. Some people condemn themselves to minuscule worlds of existence. Others...live in ones of endless possibilities."

His head was spinning. "I...I don't know what to think about this." He could tell the words were hurting her. He was hurting her. "Charlotte...I'm having trouble believing I'm actually seeing this. That this real."

"I know, that's why we usually don't clue people in."

"Yeah, I can get that part okay." He took a breath and let it back out slowly. "How...many people like you are there?"

"Druids? Only four. Fifth one should be ready for his tats in two years. People that aren't exactly normal? Hard to say. Atticus always said he estimated maybe fewer than one percent before the Blackout. After the blackout, maybe as high as five. People like us tend to be either a little hardier or...well...some species actually thrive on the kind of mayhem an apocalypse causes."

"So we're talking...what...witches?"

"Definitely real, and not the kind of people you want to piss off."

"Vampires?"

"Real and also the previously alluded to group that encouraged Rome against Druids. We're forbidden to use our abilities to directly end a life but we get a pass with them because they're already dead. We can just make them fall apart and it makes them nervous."

"I can see where that might make someone nervous." He ran a hand over his jaw. "Werewolves?"

She sighed. "Yes, Bass, werewolves, too. And the wendigo. And yeti. And leprechauns, although they tend to stay to themselves." She tossed the apple away. "Bass, you wanted to know the truth about me. I'm telling you that truth. I am a Druid. Bound to the Earth. That's why I'm different. You can't have missed that I'm different. Sure, there are a lot of women who can fight, you pretty much have to learn how these days, but how many know as many different styles as I do? At my age?"

"Right now the whole growing a tree in under five minutes by far over shadows your fighting skills."

"We really need to move past the tree, Bass. That was to get you to believe me when I say 'I'm a Druid'. Demonstration over. I believe we're in the Q&A portion of the evening now."

All right. He was game. "How did you know I cancelled your traveling privileges? I would have been told if you'd tried to leave the city. Can you...read my mind or something?" That was a disturbing thought.

"No, but I am mentally linked with Cuchulain and he understands English. He was in your office when you gave the orders. And when Baker told you about running across Miles at that Rebel base. And when Neville showed up with Danny."

That gave him pause. He thought it over and decided he was impressed. "Kid has one hell of a poker face. I mean, he'd know your dog, and he gave no sign he recognized him. I suppose that he wasn't scared by him should have been a clue, but I just figured he was a dog person." He shook his head. "Which means he knows you're in the city. And he also knows..."

"That you're planning to ask me to marry you?"

"Which you know, too." It should probably disturb him, how quickly he was recovering from the whole apple tree thing, but irritation was coming to bear. "You bugged my office with a dog."

"You invited him in, remember? Offered to dog sit." 

"Yeah, I guess I did, didn't I." He studied her where she stood, leaning against the tree. Curiosity finally got the better of him and he reached up and picked an apple. The scarlet skin broke under his teeth and the juicy flesh inside burst on his tongue with the sweetness expected of an apple. It might have been the best apple he'd ever tasted, but that could just be his mind playing tricks on him.

"So," he dared after swallowing the mouthful of fruit, "what else did they teach you?"

He could see the tension leaving her shoulders. "A lot. But, I should probably come clean about some other things, first."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that...I've killed several of your militia over the years."

Somehow that did not surprise him. "How many is 'several'?"

"Not counting Strausser? Several...dozen? At least sixty or seventy. I really wasn't keeping count. I was just trying to keep them away from Dad. I knew you were looking. That Miles was before he split."

"Strausser? He was mauled. Was it Cuchulain?"

"No, it was me." She rolled up the sleeve of her right arm. "Remember these?" She meant the tattoos on her bicep. "The top is human, my default shape, but each druid is given four animal forms. A hoofed creature, the doe, a water creature, the dolphin, a predator bird, the falcon, and a four legged predator."

"The wolf."

"Big one. On par with an Alaskan Timber or Russian grey, which are both grey wolves just separated by geography."

"Same animals for all?" Seriously, he was past doubting her by now. If she could do that thing with the apple, he could believe she could turn into giant fucking wolf.

"No. You get what the Earth wants you to have. Granuaille turns into a black panther and Atticus is Irish Warhound, the breed that the wolfhounds and deerhounds were bred from." She put the sleeve back down. "His bird is a gorgeous owl, and he turns into a sea otter, which is far more useful than a dolphin. He gets fully dexterous hands in that form. So unfair."

"This is all very strange. And more than a little scary."

"And here people say you're insane. You're at least sane enough to know when you should be scared." 

He chewed another bite of apple. His eyes took note of the sky. "It's getting late. We should start back while we can still see."

"I can see for the both of us, if need be. Besides, you have a choice to make."

"You don't need magic. You can give a man whiplash just by how quickly you change direction of thought. What choice?"

She stepped towards him, her hands reaching out to run down his arms. He watched her tongue dart out to moisten her lips before she answered. "Bass, I love you. Yes, I'm more than a bit mad at myself for that, but what's there to do? And, as much as I hate cities and how crowded they are, how the structures get between myself and the earth, I am willing to stay. Here. With you. I'm willing to stay and have the twins, have a family, you can probably talk me into having a dozen more kids, but..."

That wasn't good. "There's a but?"

"You have to drop this idea about turning the power back on."

Bass hesitated. "I'm sorry. I was expecting you to say I had to let your brother go."

"You don't have a choice in that one. Mom and Danny both will be gone by midnight."

"They wi...how did you..."

"Cuchulain. He smelled her, and people related by blood can have a similar scent. I knew you had my mother here before I moved in."

Well, at least he didn't have to worry about how to approach that topic any longer. "I see. And they're both going to be gone by midnight."

"It's not like it'd ever be a fair fight." He arched a brow in question at her. "He's over two thousand years old. He fought with the Fianna. He rode with both Ghengis Kahn and Atilla the Hun, and numerous other armies. He's probably got more battle experience than your entire militia combined. It doesn't matter how many guards are taking Danny to see Mom right now, they won't stand a chance." She gave him a shrug. "But he did say he'd try not kill anyone if he doesn't have to."

"That's decent of him." Someone who had seen Rome when it was still strong. Who saw both world wars. Was he on this continent during the Civil War? The volume of knowledge the man would have would be staggering. But still..."Why do you not want the lights back on? We lost a lot of good things because of the Blackout."

She gave him a level look. "Bass, you don't want the power back on for food production, medicines or central heat and air. You want tanks and jets so you can conquer the entire continent. Your intentions are less than noble. And even if you did want the lights for mostly good reasons I still wouldn't want them on. Mankind is destructive enough without power, and they were devastating with it. The Earth is healing, but it's a slow process. You turn the lights back on now and all the progress made gets erased within a year to two. Besides, running what you do have is a massive headache. Do you really want to add to that?"

Why didn't anyone understand? "I want our borders secure. I want to be able to get a breather. To have enough resources and food to go around."

"And I can help you with that. Knowing how to increase crop yields. Advice in diplomacy and trade negotiations. Those are things I'm trained to do. And as I've pointed out before, none of you new governments have figured out how to build a decent cavalry. If you've studied the historical generals and armies, then you know that when you throw a foot bound infantry against a well trained cavalry then you're essentially throwing that infantry into a meat grinder. I can give you that meat grinder. After the twins are born and I can get back into action, you let me pick the men and train them. Swords and archers both."

Bass rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out what he should think. It was dark now and he couldn't see anymore than what moonlight afforded him. In the distance, from the city, he heard the alarm bell ringing. He looked off in that direction. "No point in me rushing to get back there, I suppose."

"No, there's not. We can if you like, but it won't change anything."

Damn. He should be angry, he knew he should, but what if the power he'd been chasing was not the all powerful club he'd perceived it yo be? "Do I need to be worried about threats from those who...aren't quite normal?"

She looked pale in the moonlight, but he saw her nod once and slowly. "Maybe, more so if you keep me around. Eventually it'll get out that the woman standing by your side is more than human. The wolves and shape shifters...who knows how they'll react, though we're usually on civil terms with them. They're magic proof and unless you're going to start outfitting everyone with silver bullets, you can't do much to hurt them. The vamps will hate it, but they tend to avoid us now that the new blood sucker in chief has hammered out a peace accord with Atticus. As for the others, since I'd be the one drawing attention I should be the one to deal with them."

"Division of labor?"

"Or a meting out of responsibilities based on skill set and ability."

Bass felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Now I can believe some pre-Christian fossil was behind your education. People your age usually don't use a phrase a like 'meting out'." He bounced the half eaten apple in his hand a couple of times before tossing it aside. He then took both of her hands into his, lacing their fingers together. "If I stop trying to get the lights back on, you'll stay."

She leaned forward, touching her forehead to his, their noses barely meeting. "I'll stay. I'd rather you walk away from all of this and come with me, but that would be selfish of me."

"How do you figure?"

She sighed, her breath caressing his lips. "Because a sudden loss of its head figure would send the region back into the same chaos as when the lights first went out. The government you've set up has its problems, but it has provided some stability. You just need to work more on the social aspects now that you've gotten an angle on the military and security ones."

"So you're not exactly wowed by my skills as President?"

"Sorry, but no." She leaned back. "You're smart as hell with how to strategize when it comes to the battlefield, but you've got some growing to do when it comes to dealing with civilians."

"When you finally decide to go honest, you don't hold back."

"No, I don't. If you want some brainless chick who'll praise you all day long and tell you that you're perfect, then you're out of luck."

He did smile at that. "I probably need someone who isn't afraid to tell me the truth. Who knows, I might still be capable of learning something." He grimaced a bit. "The whole magic thing, though. I might need some time to fully wrap my mind around that."

"Really? I can grow you another tree. There's a white oak over there."

"No, one is enough."

"I can cut that one down if it bothers you."

"No." He was surprised at the offer. "You grew it for me. I'll probably have it fenced off so no one damages it."

"Are you sure, because people will be a bit confused tomorrow when they show up to the field and there's a fully grown apple tree in what was an empty spot today."

"It's my tree. I'm keeping it." He gave her hands a squeeze. "We really should be getting back. It's full dark." He wasn't looking foreword to stumbling home in the dark.

"Do you trust me?"

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Why? What do you want to do?"

"Help you to see better. Just trust me."

She started to mutter in that language he didn't recognize. He was bemused, at first, but then his vision brightened until he could see as though it was still early dusk. "Whoa. What did you do?"

"A simple binding to give you night vision. That's what Druidic spells are called, bindings." She bent down and picked up her shoes.

"Shouldn't you put those back on? It's getting chilly."

She groaned a bit. "Please don't ask me to. I really do hate shoes. I'll put them back on when we get to the bricks."

"The cold doesn't bother you?" He looped her free hand through his arm. 

"I know another binding that raises my core body temperature."

"Is that safe?" They started walking back towards town. "For the baby, I mean?"

"Babies, plural, and it's fine. I wouldn't do anything that would endanger them."

"So, you know for sure that it's twins. One of each?"

"Have since I realized I was pregnant. The fact that there's two is my fault."

"How do?"

"Long story. One that can probably wait until we get you out of the cold and get you a whiskey. That's something else I can help you with."

"You know how to distill whiskey?"

"And a decent ale, stout or lager. Atticus taught me. That and hunting were the two main things that he did for our village. The trade we got off of them with other villages was good, and the local garrison would cut us some slack on the crop portion of out seasonal taxes in exchange for a few kegs and the occasional case of Wisconsin distilled Irish whiskey." She grinned. "Their commander was pissed when they moved away."

"Don't blame him. I would have been, too."

"Well, then, are you going to agree to drop the whole power thing so I can stay?"

He let out a bit of a sigh. "What choice do I have? If I don't back down, I'm pretty sure I can't keep you from leaving. I don't want to lose you, to lose my family." He drew in another breath and let it out. "My family or power, that's not a fair choice."

"Well, life isn't fair. Get used to it."

"Oh, I did. A long time ago, though it concerns me that you've learned that lesson so young." He saw Neville and two guards hurrying his way. "Heads up. Looks like they're on you lowlife criminals."

"Says the man who's been holding my mother prisoner and kidnapped my brother."

"It's not illegal if the president does it."

"Whatever, Nixon."

"Seriously? O'Sullivan taught you about twentieth century politics?"

"I got that from a book I borrowed off a family friend one time. Dry reading but it helped me to pass the time during a particularly nasty storm."

"That kind of reading could put you to sleep." They came to a stop as Tom and the soldiers reached them. "Major Neville?"

"Sir, pardon the interruption, but something has come up." Neville gave a cautious look towards Charlie.

"I know. The O'Sullivans gave taken off with Rachel and Danny Matheson." Bass tilted his head towards Charlie. "I've already been informed."

Neville looked confused. "Your...orders, Sir?"

He couldn't believe he was saying this, but he wouldn't risk losing Charlie. "Let them go. We won't be needing them any longer."

"Let them..." Tom looked genuinely puzzled. "Sir, I don't..."

"Tom , " Charlie cut him off deftly, "I'm already pissed you got a promotion for screwing up and getting my father killed. I recommend you don't give me further reason to make Julia a widow. I assure you, I'd be more than happy to do so."

Neville's face got that closed off, stern look he took on when he was done playing the affable sort. Bass' thoughts went to Strausser's mangled body and he knew he needed to head this train wreck off before it happened. "Let them go, Tom. Mrs. Matheson's services are no longer required."

"I see, Sir. I will tell the men to stand down."

"You do that, Tom." Bass nodded a dismissal and waited until they had departed.

"You want me to take off the night vision now?"

"Yes, please. Now that we're close enough for the street lamps it's a little too bright." In an instant his vision returned to what he would expect in this lighting. "That's a handy trick."

"I'm a regular Swiss Army knife."

"I really need that whiskey."

"Shall we continued, then?" She put down her shoes and put them back on. "I need to take care of something else tonight, anyway."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, apparently I need to track down my uncle and knock some sense into him."

His gut clenched. In spite of her saying she was willing to stay, he didn't want to let her out of his sight just yet. "Maybe you should just let him come. He and I have some unfinished business to settle."

"I'd really rather you didn't kill Miles. He's trying to make amends for the crappy shit you two did. And he's family."

"He's my family, too." Bass nodded to the guards posted outside the kitchen doors as they opened the doors to let them in. "I need to talk to him, Charlie." She looked uncomfortable with the idea. "If it makes you feel better, you can be there when we do." 

She still didn't look convinced. "What if he's unreceptive?"

"I just want answers. At least let me try for that much." He let Cook know they were ready for dinner and escorted her to the dining room. He paused at the sound of a happy bark followed by the sound of a large dog thundering down the hallway towards them. Instinct made him tense, to which Charlie responded by smacking him across the midsection. "What?"

"Seriously?"

"I doubt he's as harmless as he likes to act."

"Oh he's far from harmless. He just wouldn't harm you. Not unless you hurt me. Don't be such a baby."

"Oh, 'baby'? Really? After what you've sprung on me tonight? I think I'm handling all if this quite well." Cuchulain gave Charlie's hand an affectionate lick before preceding them into the room. 

"I'll give you that. You didn't faint or curl up into a ball sobbing. It could have gone worse."

"It could have." He held her chair out for her as he did every night. He waited until they were served and alone again before saying more. "And I'll need some time to come to grips with all if it. Just...give me a chance to talk to Miles. Please. Let me have a chance to talk to my brother and figure out what wrong with us. I couldn't kill him, Charlie. Not anymore than he could kill me that night he left."

She licked her lips, but nodded. "All right. But if he comes in here and kicks your ass, don't come crying to me. I offered to head him off at the pass."

He couldn't stop himself from smiling at that. "I'll remember that. Just...don't let hm talk you into leaving me."

She reached over and took hold of his hand. "I thought I'd made it pretty clear by now that no one can make me do what I don't want to."

"Yeah, that's loud and clear." He kissed her hand, finally fully relaxing. She was going to stay. She was going to stay with him. Build a family with him. Grateful, he released her hand and picked up his silverware. "So, exactly how is it your fault that we're having twins?"

"Oh, well...about that..."


	12. Chapter 12

Miles jumped to his feet, drawing his swords as the door to Kip’s house was kicked open and several members of the Militia poured inside. Maggie looked up from where she’d been checking Nora for signs of cognitive impairment that might be holding on from their near suffocation. He tensed, readying himself for the fight when Tom Neville’s voice called out.

“Lower your weapons! They are not to be harmed.”

Miles watched, eyes narrowed in suspicion at the other man. “Tom.”

“Hello, Miles. Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, well, I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop in to borrow a cup of sugar.”

Tom’s lips pulled back in a tight smile. “I’m, sure. As it is, you were expected. I’ve been sent to extend an invitation from President Monroe and Miss Matheson. They ask that you and your companions join them at their home. I believe that a repast has been prepared for the occasion.”

“Still read a thesaurus before bedtime, I see.”  
“Continued learning helps to keep the mind sharp. Shall we go?” Miles knew there was little they could do but go along. They were already outmanned and outgunned, and there would be more men outside. He glanced quickly towards Kip. “Oh, he’ll be fine. Kip's pretty much the only friend you have left in town, and Monroe is still fond of him. He’s to be left alone. Monroe’s orders.”

“He’s just going to let Kip slide.” He couldn’t keep the skepticism fro his words.

“Yes, he is. I suspect your pretty, little niece had something to do with that. In her present condition, President Monroe is being most indulgent of her desires.” A back handed way for Tom to allude to the rumors Wheatly and the rebels had passed along. Miles was going to have a long talk with his niece when he saw her. “Shall we be on our way?”

They went thru the streets of Philly until they reached Independence Hall. Tom escorted them inside, coming to a stop in a large hallway and sending a soldier ahead to let their arrival be announced.

“Damn,” came a young, feminine voice laced with irritation, “I was hoping you’d kill him.”

Miles and company turned to see Charlie leaning in the door frame of a nearby room, her blue eyes pinned on Neville with clear distaste. Maggie and Aaron made sounds and relief and the British physician moved forward to embrace her step daughter. “Charlie, you scared the life from me, running off like that by yourself. What were you thinking?” She pulled back, one practiced hand coming to rest on the slight swell of the younger woman’s belly. She’d likely felt it in the embrace. “Are you all right?”

“Aside from the random times where I’m puking my guys out, I’m peachy. Really looking forward to the next six months.”

“I can only imagine.” Maggie’s tone was so dry that, had it been toast, it wouldn’t soak up butter.

“Charlie, good to see you. Glad to see you’re in one piece, more or less.”

“Relax, Miles. I hadn’t been a virgin for a couple of years by the time I came here.” His jaw tensed, visions of pulling his best friend apart limb from limb dancing thru his head as she turned back to Tom. “I’ll take it from here, Major. You and your men may leave.”

Neville hesitated. “Miss Matheson…”

“Leave, Tom, or I might give in to the desire to create that new widow.” Okay, Miles admitted to himself, silently, that she had the disconcerting stare thing down perfectly. Tom clenched his jaw, but left and took his men with them. Miles watched them leave, and wasn’t watching Charlie. That was how he missed her hand coming at him until it landed against his cheek with a resounding crack.

“CHARLIE!”

Miles blinked at his niece. “What was that for?”

“What part of ‘stay out of Philly’ did you not understand?”

“I came here to stop you from doing something stupid! Looks like you took stupid to a whole new level!” He gestured to her midsection. “Sleeping with Monroe? Really?!”

“Oh, like you’ve never used sex to get what you want. The only difference between you doing it and me doing it is there’s an added potential risk involved for me.”

“Charlie!” Maggie’s accent made her scandalized sensibilities all the more obvious.

“He’s a dictatorial jackass, a tyrant and, oh, he’s old enough to be your father!”

“Well, he’s not my father!”

“No, he’s just the reason your father is dead!”

“You think I don‘t know that?! I notice you fail to mention that you were the one who originally put the capture order on him in the first place! Memory going on you, General Matheson?!”

“What’s going on out here?” Everyone fell silent, turning to see Sebastian Monroe standing I the doorway Charlie had used. He stepped into the room. “Miles, why are you upsetting Charlotte?”

Miles glared at his childhood friend. “Don’t start with me. You take my niece to bed? Really?”

“It’s not like she volunteered who she\e was. I didn’t find that out until the other day. We didn’t talk abut it until tonight.” Bass looked over at Charlie. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve been yelled at by scarier people. Believe me.”

“I can’t believe you went after her. She’s half you rage!”

Bass looked at him with an expression that was half irritation and half amusement. “You forget I know the girls you used to pick up. Especially after you and Nora split. It’s good to see you again, Nora. You’re still far too pretty to be wasting time with this prick.” He looked at the other two people in their party and gave Charlie a questioning glance.

“Sorry. Bass, this is my step-mother, Dr. Maggie Foster, and Aaron Pittman. Aaron is one of those family friends who might as well be a relative.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Welcome to Philadelphia. I had the kitchen fix something light to hold us all over until breakfast and to help break the ice. We should probably get in there before Cuchlain decides he doesn’t want to wait any longer an eats it all.”

Miles shook his head in disbelief. “What are you up to, Bass? What do you think you’re doing? I came here for my niece and nephew. I already know what you’ve been doing to Charlie. Where’s Danny?”

“Danny and Rachel left the city earlier this evening. I don’t know to where and your niece isn’t volunteering the information.”

Miles stared at him in stunned silence. Aaron’s voice was the one who dared to ask what he was thinking. “Rachel? Rachel is alive?”

“That’s not possible. I saw her body.”

“I thought it was her, too. There was a lot of chaos after that attack. She turned up alive as a Jane Doe in one of the field hospitals we set up to deal with the overflow. You wee already gone before we found her and it was another week before she regained consciousness. The body we found turned out to belong to one of the kitchen staff at the offers school.”

Miles swallowed. He must have looked shaky, because Charlie left Bass’ side to catch him under one arm and help him find his way to a chair just inside the office. “Sit down before you fall down. Don’t let him see you looking weak.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

She gave Bass a glance, her lips turned up at one corner in a wry half-smile. “Just keeping things focused.”

Miles looked up. Bass was looking at him with a curious expression. “What?”

“Jeremy was right. You look good. Too good.” He glanced at Charlie. “You’re doing?”

“Yep.” Slender hands ran through his thicker, younger hair. “He needed extra time to try and figure out how he was going to make up for all the crap he did.”

“What about me?”

“I’m still trying to decide. Besides, you’re getting twins. That’s the most immortality most people get.” She shrugged. “I’ll probably give in if age starts slowing you down too much to keep up with me.”

Bass snorted, Miles groaned. “Please, don’t. I’m trying to not think about… that as it is.”

“I’m a grown woman; I can sleep with whomever I want.”

“You’re a kid.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Miles glared at his niece. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to bust down the door and get her and Danny out. She wasn’t supposed to be smiling, apparently content and… well, she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be pregnant. “Are you sure it’s his?”

Bass gave a ‘hey’ of indignation while Charlie rolled her eyes. “Yes, THEY are. One of each. Some would say I’m getting it all done at once.”

“I really don’t like that.” He searched her face for signs of duress or sadness. He didn’t see any. “Your mom? He’s kept her here all this time.”

“You’re the one who took her.”

Miles looked at Bass. The other man shrugged. “I didn’t even know she knew Rachel was here. I’m guessing they’ve been talking, though I haven’t a clue as to how.”

“A girl has to have her secrets. And, yes, we’ve been talking. A lot. She needed to be in on the plan for their escape, after all.” She trailed off, her head turning and locking eyes with her dog. 

“What is it?”

“Atticus.” She looked back at Bass. “Think you can manage to play nice?”

Miles saw Bass sigh and recognized the signs of him forcing himself to let go of a point of anger or irritation. “I can, I promise.”

“That’s good to hear.” The voice was new. Young and masculine. One second they were six of them and a hound in the room, the next there were seven and a hound. A smiling man with curling red hair and the same type of intricate tattoos as Charlie bore seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Atticus!”

“Aaron! Good to see you, man! And Doc Maggie. You are looking as stunning as usual. Please accept my sincerest condolences on your loss. Ben was a good man.”

Maggie offered a slight smile. “Thank you. It is good to see you again, Mr. O’Sullivan. And thank you for helping Charlotte. Are we to assume that you were the one who helped her mother and Danny escape?”

“With assistance from Ganuaille and the hounds, of course. I thought I’d come back and make sure that my assessment of Monroe’s character wasn’t wrong. I was mostly certain that he wouldn’t hurt Charlie, but sometimes you can’t tell.”

Bass glowered. “Of course I wouldn’t hurt Charlie!”

“I couldn’t be completely certain of that, now could I? Some men love power entirely too much.” He looked over at Charlie. “How’d he take the deal?”

Charlie was about to open her mouth in response when Bass growled out the answer, himself. “I know the deal!”

Miles frowned. “What deal?”

The man, Atticus?, smiled benignly at Bass. The Terror of Toledo forced his shoulders to relax. “If I give up on turning the lights back on, Charlie stays. If I don’t, I lose my family. She’ll leave and I’ll never see her or the kids again. And I’m fairly certain there’s no way for me to stop her from leaving if she wants.”

No, there probably wasn’t. Miles doubted that brewing up the fountain of youth wasn’t likely to be the only trick in Charlie’s bag. He looked cautiously at his niece, then to Atticus. “Is that wise? I mean… I can’t help but think someone like her is…” How did he finish that without putting ideas in Bass’ head?

“Dangerous?” Well, apparently O’Sullivan had no problem with saying it. He nodded. “She is, potentially, but only if she lets herself be. I trust Charlie; she’s got a good head on her shoulders, even if she did make this thing way more complicated than it should have been. She could have just hidden out until those soldiers reached town with Danny, but that likely would have resulted in neither of them ever learning that their mother was still alive. She certainly wouldn’t have ended up in a family way, but then she and Monroe here… well… let me just say that ultimately this is working out to the best possible solution.”

That was a little hard to swallow. “The ‘best’ possible solution?”

The man nodded. “Aye. You may not believe me, but your niece has been trained to be not only a warrior and herbalist, but to be a voice of reason and wisdom for the leader of an army or nation. Monroe on his own… well, Mr. President you’ve been an epic douche. You need someone like Charlotte to kick your ass and help you straighten out the mess you’ve made of things. The mess you both made. And you, Miles, I can’t say that I’m thrilled that she’s helped you turn back the clock like this, because I know from experience that it takes a mind that has been trained to think of the downside to living for far longer than your normal lifespan to cope with it fully, but I do agree that you could still work a lot of good with the right hand to guide you and smack you around if you go off the deep end.”

“She already did that.” Everyone glanced at Aaron. The larger man shrugged. “Well, she did.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. My wife set a bad example at times. She sometimes smacks me if she thinks I’m being too annoying. It doesn’t help that I trained her too well. She’s scary in a fight.”

Miles saw Bass smile. “What?”

“Nothing, just thinking how Charlie comes close to kicking my ass when we’re sparring.”

“Comes close?” Atticus smirked. “In other words, she keeps it strictly vanilla. If she let herself go all out, you’d be paste.” The man shrugged. “At any rate, I was just making sure that everything was going well, here. I’d better get back to the others. Charlie, you know how to get hold of me if you need me.”

“I do.” She left Miles’ side and hugged the other man. “Let Mom and Danny know I’m okay?”

“Will do. They’re the reason I’m back this soon, actually. I figured you were safe at least until Sunrise.” He nodded his head towards Bass. “Mr. President, it has been a pleasure to be your guest. Just remember, if you piss her off, don’t come crying to me when she kills you for it.”

Bass let out a puff of air thru his nose in amusement. “I’ll probably deserve it if she does.”

“Yeah, but women can be vindictive. They don’t end it quick and clean like we men do.” Charlie punched him sharply in the arm, her brow furrowed in a glare. “Ah!! See what I mean?” He grinned and vanished as they were watching before Charlie could hit him again. Everyone else gaped.

“What the fuck?” Miles started the same time as Bass said, “Can you do that?”

“Yes, I can do that. No, you can’t learn.”

“”Why not?”

“Because you’re too old. You have to start training when you’re a kid. Twelve is the usual age.”

“Damn.”

Miles shook his head. “I think it’s best for everyone that we’re too old. Though that was cool. Think of everything we could have done if…” he trailed off as he noted his niece looking at him, hands on her hips and one brow arched. “It’s… just good that we can’t.”

“Yeah. You remember that.”

“Right.” Miles looked over at Bass. Bass looked back. Both of them were a bit at a loss as to what to do or say next. Finally, Miles broke the uncomfortable silence. “So… power or your family. I know you well enough to know which of those is more important to you.”

Bass nodded, a soft chuff escaping him. “Yeah, not real hard of a decision to make.” His eyes went over to Charlie. “Family, every damn time.” He smiled the slightly off, lovesick smile he’d worn when he had been with Shelly. 

Miles felt something in his heart twist at seeing that smile again, like the old Bass. “Every time,” he agreed. He nodded, a spark of hope igniting in his chest and taking root there. “Any chance you might actually be returning to something akin to sanity?”

“Maybe, but I’m hardly the one to judge. That’s what I have her for. I think that’s what we both need her for.”

“Probably.” Miles nodded. “Well, looks like we should talk some serious business. Someone said something about food?”

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, Comments are my drug of choice.


End file.
